Counterplay
by AjaxRota
Summary: The citizens of Megakat city have enjoyed two years of peace and unity; thanks in no small part to the efforts of the SWAT Kats. However, a new foe rises to tear the entire system down; Enforcers, SWAT Kats, City Hall, the lot. T-Bone and Razor must team up with allies both old and new to face this new threat. Rated T for violence and minor suggestive themes. CHAPTER 17 UP!
1. Prologue

Artie was having a bad day.

Eight hours of patrol for six days straight. Eight hours of drudgery. Eight hours of routine police work; simple, safe, boring. If it wasn't giving out speeding tickets by the dozen, it was chasing after hoodlums, out for the cheap thrill of a defaced bus stop. On an exceptionally exciting day, he might deal with a vandalised public phone. If he was lucky, they might even ask him to take a picture for the municipal insurance company. Protect and serve turned out, for the most part, to mean chase after and clean up.

All this was before Artie agreed to the double shift.

Where a daytime patrol was tedious, night patrol was ugly. Shoplifters and kids skipping school might be boring, but it was, at the very least, a comforting boredom. No-one lost any sleep over a stolen watch. Night patrol mean domestics, drunk and disorderlies, and worse. Cheap thrills became nasty surprises, delinquents and thugs became genuine criminals, and the occasional piece of distasteful graffiti became something far uglier. A bad situation made worse by the fact that he was already tired. The bronze-furred kat shifted listlessly in the driver's seat of the patrol cruiser.

Artie's bad day was rapidly becoming a bad week.

"Hey, Arts…"

Not that he should complain, work was work, and even though he'd been seven years on the job, his financial situation was hardly enviable.

"...Arts"

Maybe he could get some extra work with a security detachment. It wouldn't alleviate the boredom, but the propensity for some psychopath to attempt a break-in meant hazard pay.

"Earth to Patrol Officer Artimus!"

"What?"

Artie was woken from his torpor by his patrol partner.

"Ya said, like, two words t'me all night, what's up?"

"Just tired, Vince." replied Artie.

"Well, shake it out, buddy, the night s'young!"

"Maybe for you."

While he had more energy than he needed and more luck than he deserved, Vincent was almost the ideal poster-boy for the Enforcers; six foot two with golden fur. Although young, handsome and with a mouth to go with his near sickening levels of agreeableness, Vince was someone you could count on at crunch time. The pair had only been patrol partners for a few weeks, but had already established a firm friendship. They'd only found themselves in a tight spot once or twice, and although hardly on the ropes, Vincent had shown himself to be a reliable partner.

"C'mon buddy," continued Vincent, his tone playfully mocking "I've gotta whole week'a this crud, ya company s'all I got t'look forward to!"

"I've already had a whole week of this crud, let's just have an easy night, ok?"

Faux-mocking to faux-serious;

"Affirmative, Commander Artimus, sir!"

Artie couldn't help but crack a smile; "Vince, where did you even come up with Artimus?"

"I dunno." replied Vincent, "Artie jus sounds like it should be short for summin, s'all."

"Well, it's not."

"You're no fun."

"Blame my parents."

###### ###### ######

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yes!"

"Really? Doesn't look special…"

"It's not supposed to be special, it's supposed to be quiet!"

This was a joke. Jobs like this were a rare find; daring, dangerous, and most importantly, expensive. Expensive was good in Marco's books, not just for the pay, but for the chance to work with professionals.

" _Emphasis on chance…_ " thought Marco. Whoever had planned this clearly hadn't done their homework. Sure, the location was good, but the crew reeked of amateurs. These hoods looked like they were more suited to sticking up gas stations or working over dealers than pulling off something that would, barring a state of emergency, be headline news the following day.

He liked to consider himself above such petty thuggery; brutal as what they were about to do might be, it still amounted to little more than an act of senseless violence. Marco had witnessed his fair share of senseless violence, a dishonourable discharge followed by a few years of petty crime had seen to that, and this was no different, just a different side of the same coin. It wasn't unlike him to pass up the ugly jobs if the pay was good, but he wanted something more. He'd kept himself in good shape, lean yet powerfully built, although recently, he'd noticed that his charcoal grey fur had started to thin a bit. Working with amateurs certainly wasn't helping.

"You done yet?" asked Marco.

"Yeah, yeah, all good here!" replied one of the thugs.

Marco looked around. A dumpster in the middle of the alley, a pile of crates stacked a little too neatly, it looked like a setup from a cheap buddy cop film. While a couple of bottles of cheap whiskey were enough to convince the local vagrants to move on, and he didn't expect anyone to be taking an evening stroll at this time of night, even a rookie enforcer could see that this was a setup. This was going to go south as soon as they made their move. Still, fifty grand was hard to argue with.

"Alright boys, let's go to work!"

Marco gripped his crowbar tight and crouched behind the dumpster. Despite the sound of a cinderblock crashing through the shopfront window, he found himself grinning. This was going to be fun.

###### ###### ######

"I'm jus sayin', buddy, ya gotta get it outta ya head that s'all a movie need iza story t'be worth watchin."

"I never said that," replied Artie, "there are plenty of good movies like that, Hardshell 3 just isn't one of them!"

It had happened again. Vincent was a self-described film junkie, and didn't mind pushing his opinions regarding trashy action movies onto others. In this case, others meant Artie. This sort of obsession was par for the course with such people, he figured. Still, for passing time, the conversation was welcome; it beat complaining about the job. Coffee, a few donuts and some garbage conversation about garbage movies was preferable to the next case of assault with a deadly weapon.

"Well, throw down some z'amples, then." said Vincent.

"Alright, how about…"

The radio buzzed to life.

Unit twenty-two oh nine come in

Vincent's demeanour changed instantly; his brow furrowed as he unhooked the receiver from the cruiser's roof.

"Twenty-two oh nine here, go ahead dispatch."

We've got reports of a two-eleven in your area, electronics store in an alley off fourteenth, silent alarm tripped. Concerned citizen reports seeing suspicious persons in the area, suggest you respond.

"Ten-four, dispatch, we'll check it out."

Appreciated, twenty-two oh nine, look for the large neon sign heading west, alley should be about fifty feet past that.

"Copy, on way."

Vincent replaced the receiver and glanced at Artie, cracking a wry smile.

"Ready t'roll, buddy?" he said.

"Let's do this."

Artie shifted the transmission into drive and gunned the engine. The cruiser roared to life.

"Lights?" asked Vincent.

"Yeah, why not?"

There was hardly another kat on the road at 2am, but it made for a nice show in case anyone was watching. Plus, this wasn't exactly the nicest part of town, and a show of force from time to time wasn't out of order.

"What you reckon, Arts, couple'a mugs stealin' phones?"

"Probably," said Artie, "wouldn't be unusual for this area."

The rest of the journey passed in silence. This was a fairly routine call, but Artie couldn't help but feel uneasy. Not out of fear for his safety, or even that of his partner's, it was something else, something just felt out of place. Unless someone was hurt, a break-in was usually the purview of some commercial security firm; calling in Enforces to scope the situation out suggested something more than a mere smash-and-grab. Still, it had been a slow night, and dispatch typically liked to keep the patrols on their toes.

"Alright, Arts, take'a left here, should be jus' down th'way." said Vincent.

A large neon sign greeted them as the cruiser rounded the corner.

" _Wonder who Jim is?_ " mused Artie.

Artie eased the throttle and slowed the vehicle to a crawl. The street was lifeless, the only motion coming from a few stray pieces of trash whisking their way across the road. Vincent lowered his window and swept the beam of his flashlight across the storefronts.

"Don't look like much's goin' on here." he said.

The call had been for an electronics store in an alley, but in these situations, thieves tended to be fairly opportunistic; it wouldn't have been a surprise to see a smashed window or two.

"Ok, I suppose we better check this out then."

Artie pulled the vehicle up to the curb and killed the engine, the blue and red flashing lights dying with it. Reaching for his rifle and helmet, he exited the cruiser, craning his neck and casting his glance over the roof of the vehicle.

Right into the face of a grinning Vincent.

"Feelin' a'bit rookie t'night, Arts?" he quipped.

"What?"

Vincent tapped a paw to his temple.

"Whatcha worried 'bout, someone gunna mess up ya pretty face?"

Artie couldn't help but scoff at the remark; despite being three years his junior, Vincent never shied away from a brazen remark. Certainly, Enforcer operational regulations stated that patrol officers were to wear their helmets and body armour at all times when outside their cruiser. Still, it was the unwritten rule, and a matter of pride for veterans, that you didn't wear your helmet after the first year on the force unless someone was already shooting. Such hot situations usually involved a bust of some sort, where the first thing one could expect through the door was a hail of fire.

Artie removed his helmet and dumped it unceremoniously on the driver's seat of the cruiser. Slinging his rifle lazily by his side, he and his partner made their way cautiously down the alley. Being in one of the more downtrodden parts of town, half the storefronts were boarded up, with those that remaining looking more like the sort of place one might go to buy stuff that happened to find its way off the back of a truck somewhere on the outskirts of the city rather than a legitimate business. Even pawn shops avoided this area; it was a near certainty that anything they might purchase from their customers had been obtained through less than legitimate means, and that was always more trouble than it was worth.

"Look s'like whoever s'been causin' trouble here has bugged out." said Vincent

"Maybe, keep your eyes open."

Even the usual throng of destitutes were nowhere to be seen, just a stack of crates piled against the side of the alley, along with a dumpster carelessly left in the middle of the thoroughfare.

And a broken window.

"Righto, Vince," continued Artie, "check it out, I'll call it in."

Even a cursory glance over the scene told Artie all he needed to know; whoever had come by looking for easy pickings had simply smashed the window and, upon seeing that there was very little worth stealing, made a run for it. No sense landing yourself in prison over a couple of second hand phones. As Vincent gave the storefront a once-over, Artie turned his back and thumbed the transmit button on his radio.

"Dispatch, twenty-two oh nine, come in"

I hear you, go ahead

"Nothing much going on here, broken window, maybe some stolen goods, can't see any sense following…"

The distinctive sound of a metallic object colliding with bone echoed in the alley. Artie wheeled around, bring his laser rifle up in one smooth motion, directing it toward the source of the sound.

A sound to the right, a footstep, perhaps.

A quick glance towards the shopfront and Artie knew that Vincent was in trouble. A dark furred figure stood over him, taller by perhaps half a foot, a dull red crowbar clutched in his paw. Judging by the fact that Vincent was staggering back, clutching at his head, he had been struck a nasty blow. The figure wound his arm back for a second strike.

"Enforcers! Drop the…" screamed Artie.

A second footstep.

" _Shit, flanks!_ " he mentally chided himself.

15 feet between him and vincent, he had time.

Rookie mistake.

Artie took and single step back and twisted left. A hooded figure lunged at him from behind the crates, a large knife clutched tightly in his paw.

" _Breathe out, squeeze_ "

Training his weapon upwards, Artie leveled his sights on his attacker's forehead squeezed the trigger. A crimson beam of energy lanced forward and struck the charging kat just below the eye socket, boring all the way through his head and exploding out the base of the skull in a cloud of cauterised brain matter and superheated bone fragments.

Movement to the right.

Wheeling about, a second figured burst forth. Artie's second shot was off the mark, impacting just above the knee. Sloppy, but he had stopped the attack before the first body had hit the ground.

" _Vincent!_ "

His heart pounding in his chest, as he pivoted on the spot, Artie turned to face his partner's assailant.

There was no way someone that large should be able to move so fast. Before he even thought the fire, the grey furred thug brought his crowbar smashing across the bridge of Artie's nose. His vision blurred and a stabbing pain crashed through his nervous system. Instinctively, Artie's paw shot up to clutch at his face. The second impact hit him just below the wrist, fracturing the bone and causing his rifle to clatter to the ground.

" _This is it_."

The third and fourth hits were rapid jabs to the sternum. After this, Artie lost count. Cold air rushed upwards as he crashed to the ground. He couldn't see, couldn't hear; apart from the pain in his wrist and nose, he felt remarkably numb. For what seemed like an eternity he simply lay there. As his vision and hearing returned, he realised he lay on his side, facing up the alley towards the parked cruiser. Mustering his strength, Artie rolled himself over.

Vincent was down, a pair of hooded thugs kicked at him, stomped on his limbs, their crazed laughter filling the alley.

"Hey, you still alive down there?"

In comparison to the wild howls of Vincent's aggressors, this voice was remarkable calm. Rolling onto his back, Artie looked up into the face of the large, grey-furred kat. He sported only a slight smirk, clearly pleased with his work, but not so high on adrenaline as his comrades as to let it get the better of him. It seemed he had dressed for the occasion; loosing fitting cargo pants, boots and a red tank top. Good grip, easy to run in.

"Can you talk?"

Artie didn't reply.

"Well, looks like you two walked into a bit of a bad situation here. No matter, we'll be on our way soon, just one last thing to do."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box cutter. The blade clicked out and flashed across Artie's vision.

The expected pain didn't come.

"But," continued the thug, "I think you might have earned yourself a reprieve. That wasn't a bad showing you made of yourself, took down two of my boys in the time it took me to take down one of you, not many I've come across can say that."

He tapped the blade against his chin several times.

"You know what, I don't think I need this for you." he said.

A quick shout had one of the kats setting himself upon Vincent jog over, his face obscured by a hood.

"Yeah boss?"

The grey kat casually passed the boxcutter over.

"Just like I said, make it messy." he said.

Artie finally found his voice, but could only manage a croak.

"No, please…"

"Please?" replied the grey kat, "Please? You should be thanking me. You're going to get a nice vacation, some time off work and probably a promotion for this. In fact, I don't think they'll ever made you do this god-awful night patrol stuff again! Your friend, well… sometimes you just get unlucky."

A dismissive shrug.

"This is normally the part where I'd say something about this not being personal, but I'm not going to insult you with that sort of sentimental crud."

Artie had to get his gun, save his friend, shoot this worthless scumbag right between the eyes! He reached over, inching his paw forward. Dealing with difficult people, making snap decisions in the heat of the moment, keeping a cool head; everything he learnt in training seemed like such pointless drivel at this moment in time. All that mattered was Vincent's life, he couldn't let this happen.

A heavy boot crashed down on his wrist.

"Oh no, let's not do anything stupid."

Artie could do nothing. He watched helplessly and one of the thugs, a wild grin flashing from under his hood, yanked Vincent's head up off the ground and sawed across this throat with the box cutter. He offered no resistance as his juggulars and trachea were severed; his final sound a gurgling, raspy groan as blood welled up in this throat and spilled out the corners of his mouth.

Vincent died in a run-down Megakat City back-alley, in a pool of his own blood.

"Now, before we go, one last thing."

The grey kat took the bloodied box cutter from the thug. With a single, brutal motion he brought the blade slamming down into the base of Artie's spine, just above his tail. The pain was too great; with the sound of his attacker's footsteps fading into the night, Artie slipped into unconsciousness.

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:

Alrighty, it has been a while! Some years ago, I was on this site and published a few short stories under a different username. That username (and indeed, that part of my life) is now behind me. Still, I felt like making a comeback, had an idea, got some inspiration, decided to write, so here I am.

Anyways, that's not important!

This prologue is (hopefully) the start something that I've been musing over for a while now. I'm still finding my feet again, so my writing might be a bit on the crappy side, but I'm hoping that I can improve it as I continue. Generally, I'm hoping to put out a chapter every 2 weeks or so. We'll see how that works out!

Perhaps this first part was a little on the brutal side, but I did want to frame the events and characters that I hope to explore down the track.

So, if you've got any criticism or feedback, positive or otherwise, feel free to have at me, I'll take whatever comes.

-AR


	2. Chapter 1 - A Day in the Life

It was a strange sensation, to know that one's own actions had left them in a state of such boredom, even if that had been their goal all along. For most, it was a strange thought that someone would actively attempt to nullify their own purpose, but that is exactly what the SWAT Kats had done. Dark Kat had not been seen for years, The Metallikats lay deactivated and rusting in an enforcer evidence room, while the assorted psychos and crackpots that once plagued Megakat city were either locked up or had started running and kept going. This was, naturally, the modus operandi of those who would help others; doctors did not wish illness upon their patients, the fire department didn't want houses to burn down and, of course, the SWAT Kats didn't want unrepentant lunatics and bizarre horrors unleashed upon their hometown on a weekly basis. This suited Jake Clawson and Chance Furlong just fine, as much as Razor and T-Bone may be hankering for a scrap.

Of course, Razor and T-Bone were mere fictions, and whatever personalities and opinions they had were fabrications on the part of the two junkyard mechanics whenever they put on their flight suits. However, it wouldn't be correct to say that they were completely separate; quite the opposite, the masked kats were very much a part of the pair, albeit a part that need be hidden from the public eye. Chance was brash and cocky, Jake was crafty and sharp; donning the masks simply turned these qualities up to eleven.

It was perhaps fitting, in that case, that the pair where technically still enforcers, or at least on the enforcer payroll, as little as that pay may be. The terms of their employment had been spelled out for them many years ago, minimum pay and allowances until the mandatory retirement age of 65, at which point they could enjoy a meagre pension and possibly a service appreciation certificate, if they were lucky. Ironically, this was perhaps the most secure job in the entire city. It was highly unlikely that they would ever be relieved of their duties while a certain Ulysses Feral headed the organisation. As little mind he paid to them, it was certain that he had not forgotten that, for a brief moment, Enforcer Pilot Chance Furlong and Weapons Officer Jake Clawson had refused to operate as a simple gear in the machine. An escaped criminal and a destroyed building later and here they were; working a dead-end job while the gears of The Enforcers ground on.

The Enforcers; that monolithic organ of civic security that, like their vigilante alter-egos, sought its own obsolescence. Still, at the very least, parking tickets, traffic infringements and the occasional civic misdemeanor provided enough work so that the machine might exist in some fashion, even in the seemingly unthinkable event of everlasting peace and harmony descending upon the city. Perhaps it wasn't as unthinkable as it had been in the past; indeed, memories of a mad scientist with a runaway AI faded day by day, month by month. The people were quick to move on, many happy to simply remember the Zed incident as the last hurrah of Megakat City's criminal underbelly.

And so two years had passed. For two years the emergency klaxons lay silent. The Turbokat sat dormant in the hanger beneath their workshop, collecting dust. The pair would take it out every couple of months, a quick joy ride or a mach five flyby of town hall, just to remind people that they were still around, still watching over the city. However, apart from the routine maintenance that even an unused fighter jet required, Razor and T-Bone had had very little to do; no new vehicles or gadgets, and no emergencies to respond to. They had, of course, stuck to their training regime, although even that was beginning to fall by the wayside. T-Bone, though far from fat, had put on a noticeable couple of pounds and Razor, while blessed with a thinner frame, had lost a good deal of tone from his typically athletic body.

Jake Clawson sighed.

"Chance, anything yet?"

"Nope." came the reply.

Far removed from even a paltry detailing or buff-n-polish of the Turbokat, Jake found himself in a hastily dug hole beside their workshop, knee-deep in mud. One of the downsides of living in a rickety workshop built above an old Megawar 2 bunker was the constant battle with the aging and decrepit amenities; power that went out at the drop of a hat, sewage that backed up after heavy rain and now, seventy year old plumbing that had sprung a leak after a previous repair job.

" _We've really got to get this properly sorted out._ " thought Jake.

Even through the mud and grime, there was an especially pungent odour emanating from the dark orange Kat. Three days without hot water and a thick winter coat will do that.

"Hey Jake, there's no pressure up here," shouted Chance, his head appearing from the upper floor balcony of their garage, "we've still got a leak somewhere."

"Well, I can't find it. I've been digging down here all day and nothing."

"So keep looking, Ace."

"I could dig up half the yard and not find anything."

Chance grinned. "Are you telling me," he started, a hint of his typical cocky nature in his voice, "that there's a simple problem that Mr Genius can't solve?"

"Hey buddy, I just fix jet engines and build stuff, I'm not a plumber."

Jake looked wistfully about his submerged feet before continuing, "Maybe we should hire one? This could take weeks if we do it ourselves, and we can't take any more time off."

He was right. The auto repair shop that the pair ran wasn't exactly in the midst of a business boom, but there was still too much work for one of the kats to handle alone. A recent decision by the Enforcers to put a large number of their trucks in for servicing hadn't helped either, and that wasn't paying work. Chance, though the better auto mechanic of the two, needed Jake's help.

Chance cocked his head to the side, "I thought you needed those parts from South Kat City?"

"Say again buddy?"

"Those parts, something about some bits of electronics that you had to order from out of town. You said they'd cost a few hundred bucks. We can't afford a plumber."

"It was for the dimensional radar," said Jake, "but I haven't ordered them yet."

Chance shrugged.

"Hey, it's either the jet or we go on smelling like a tuna factory for the next few weeks."

"Ok then," quipped the large tabby, "I'll call a plumber, not like we're using the jet at the moment."

Jake watched as his partner made his way back into the workshop. It would be a stretch to call his current disposition depressive, even if he did have a certain air of defeatism about him. Sure, the brash and confident Chance Furlong still made regular appearances, but a more subdued temperament seemed to be becoming the norm. It was clear that he missed flying; once every few months wasn't enough.

The sound of an impact wrench clattering to life echoed from the workshop. There was work that still needed doing, and Chance was having to pull double shifts to cover for the time Jake had spent digging up the yard. Cars didn't fix themselves.

Jake returned to his digging. If nothing else, he was getting a bit of exercise; exercise that he sorely needed. The job had turned out to be far larger than he had anticipated. The pipes had failed before, but it was usually around the water boiler or some other easy to access location; under the kitchen sink or in the workshop. With a near limitless supply of metal scrap, repairing such faults was simple, even without any plumbing experience. This time, he feared their water supply had finally given up for good. The trench he had dug already extended 50 feet, and he was yet to find any sign of a leak.

" _I guess I'll pack it in if we're getting a plumber._ "

With slightly more effort than he would have liked, Jake pulled himself out of the trench. The area immediately about the workshop was in a bit of a state; dirt piled up along one wall; the ground muddy from the winter rains. Although it was late March, the weather had yet to clear, and the damp ground made shovelling markedly more difficult.

Jake tossed the shovel aside and made his way inside, kicking off his boots as he entered. Though bad, the exterior of the building was positively spotless compared to the interior. Dishes piled high in the kitchen, the floor covered in mud and grime, not to mention the smell. The place wasn't exactly luxurious to begin with, but it was becoming downright unlivable. A few more days of this and one of them was liable to contract some awful disease.

That wasn't even the worst part.

In an effort to keep their living room, bathroom and bedrooms, all located on the upper floor, somewhat bearable, they had to leave their mud-and-grease encrusted work clothes in the workshop reception. This meant stripping down to their underwear, potentially in full view of customers.

" _Or Callie Briggs._ "

On that occasion, complete and utter disaster had been averted with a timely dash into the workshop pit, although Jake didn't relish the prospect of having to do so again. Still, he was sure that Chance would have a dig at him over it for a while to come.

'Crud!"

Jake's ears perked up at the sound of his partner's shout.

"You alright in there pal?"

"Yeah." came the response, "Air's busted though."

"Reckon you can fix it up?"

The rattle gun clattered to the floor.

"Scrap that, I'll get on it tomorrow."

Chance sauntered into the reception area and flopped into one of the armchairs. He was just as filthy as Jake, covered in grease, oil and transmission fluid, and smelling rather ripe. He looked tired.

"Hey Jake, what do you want for dinner?"

His eyes were fixed wearily ahead, gazing somewhat aimlessly at the calendar on the wall.

"Aren't they doing two-for-ones down at Schmoke's?"

Chance's mood perked up instantly and the mention of a hearty burger. "Alright, sounds good. I'll head on down. Want anything else?"

"We're outta milk."

"I meant something a bit stronger."

Jake chuckled, "Nah, not for me bud. Maybe once we've got this place sorted out."

"Roger that."

###### ###### ######

Well, this was awkward.

The name glared up at her. Dozens of them. Dozens of printed invitations, all neatly presented and embossed, all pre-addressed to the intended recipient.

All wrong.

"Vimcent" D'Angelo had never served a day of his life with the Enforcers, because "Vimcent" did not exist. It would all have to be redone, the lot. The invitations, the plaque, even the event notification on the enforcers internal intranet. All because of sloppy handwriting and an urge to get out the office sometime before 2am. At the very least the office memos had gone out without any error; thanks to them being personally printed out in their hundreds the night before. The she-kat leaned back in her chair and cupped her paws to her forehead.

" _My uncle is going to have a fit._ "

Lieutenant Felina Feral…correction... _Captain_ Felina Feral seemed to have her work cut out for her. Organising a memorial service was more involved than it looked. Venues needed to be booked, staff needed to be organised, not to mention the arrangements of flowers, music and other assorted niceties that were required. It wasn't difficult in a heat-of-the-moment sense, but it certainly asked for a great deal of time and attention. Memorial services weren't something that basic training covered, in fact whole concept, and very real possibility, of fatalities on the job was brushed aside by enforcer training sergeants, treated with a "cross that bridge when we get to it" attitude. Feline was treading water here as best she could.

Still, it wasn't all bad, the promotion was a nice change of pace; office work was far and away less stressful than patrols or operations, even if it did get a bit dull at times, and the significant pay rise was more than welcome. There were other perks, too; access to officer housing in the enforcer habitation blocks, a car provided by the city for her personal use, as well as some extra vacation time. It was nice and, though perhaps a little entitled, Felina felt the promotion had been a long time coming.

"Captain Feral!" came a voice from the hall.

Felina swivelled about in her chair. A skinny, black-furred kat popped his head into her office.

"Captain Feral! I have a favour to ask!"

Felina smiled; Ravi was always so excitable and polite. He insisted in referring to everyone by rank at all times.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms, her tone one of mock-seriousness, "go on."

"Well, I came in an hour early today and it is already half past four and I was wondering if I could perhaps leave early?" His voice came quickly, leaving him almost out of breath by the time he finished his sentence.

"Woah, Ravi, slow down there." said Felina. "More of this crazy foreign sport of yours?"

Ravi seemed taken aback, if only jokingly.

"It is not crazy!" he replied. "It is very popular back home! It is very hard to find a TV channel here that shows it."

"Didn't you use your leave last month?"

"I did, my friends came around to my apartment to watch it!"

"Ravi," said Felina, "that game went for five days."

"Yes I…"

"Five...days."

Ravi looked sheepishly about. It was fun to tease him, even if she sometimes took it too far. He had only been an enforcer for 18 months but had taken to the job with his trademark enthusiasm. At under five foot six and some 140 pounds, he wasn't suitable for patrol duty, but had an uncanny knack with computers. This had led Ravi to find himself working in the enforcer data centre, although he had recently landed a few shifts with Felina in employee management. Reliable and hard-working, he was good to have around.

The she-kat couldn't help herself, she wasn't going to say no.

"Oh alright then, off you go!" she said, cracking a wide grin.

"Thank you Captain Feral!"

Ravi disappeared down the hall.

The remaining few hours of her shift passed without incident, save for a call to municipal venue services, where she spoke to a kat who had clearly had a far worse day than herself. It was nearing eight in the evening when she finally flicked off the light to her office and strode out into the hall. The building was starting to empty as she made her way to the basement carpark; kats assigned to night patrol were beginning their shifts, while most of the administrative and clerical staff had left hours ago. Another hour and the building would be deserted.

" _At least I don't have to worry about the traffic._ "

The drive back to her assigned living quarters look longer than it had in the past; the officer's residency building was located in a more desirable part of town. It did take longer to travel to and from Enforcer Headquarters, but the area was undeniably nicer. Felina wasn't about to complain.

" _Parking's good too._ " she thought as the car rolled to a stop in her assigned bay. Not the flashiest or most powerful ride on the road, but a good deal better than her previous vehicle, a hideous old hatchback that barely survived the morning rush without overheating. A brisk walk and she was at the elevators.

" _And here we go…_ "

"Fel-fel!"

There was a small security office next to the basement elevators. During the morning shift it was staffed by a pair of typical career NCOs; the type who never got promoted. More than a bit surly and want to call you out for slight violations of residency security. Failure to display parking permit, citation. Failure to sign the register for out-of-hours access, citation. Pressing the elevator button too vigorously, citation. Night shift, however, was different.

"Fel-fel! You're late!"

Enforcer Rookie Abigail Sharpe. Sickeningly cute and a friend to all, she had taken a particular liking to Felina ever since she moved in. It appeared that no matter the time of day, she had boundless energy and a personality that just wouldn't give up. Probably why Felina liked her back.

" _Probably why they stuck her on a nighttime security detail._ " thought Felina.

Her typical routine was to blatantly abandon her post and run out to meet the captain on her return from headquarters. Tonight was no exception.

"How was your day, Fel?"

No respect for rank, either.

"Long, I could use a bath." she replied.

"Well, don't get too comfortable! I've got a half-shift tonight, so I've decided that since I've been cooped up in here all week, I'd go out dancing. You should join me! There'll be a few nice toms coming along…"

A sly grin.

"Sorry, Abby, not tonight."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, "but OK! Let me know if you change your mind."

The elevator dinged and the doors open.

"Goodnight, Captain!"

"Night, Abby."

The doors closed. It was a pleasant change, nice kats to work with and a genuinely friendly greeting when returning home. Certainly beat the various hells that the city had been through over the past five years. She could get used to this; office work, the occasional patrol or flight when she felt like it, time off when she needed. The future of Megakat city was looking bright.

Life was good.

###### ###### ######

The day was finally over. A greasy meal of burgers and fries, washed down with a large glass of milk certainly took the edge off 12 hours of work. Add some cheesy late night TV and it wasn't at all a bad way to spend a Friday night. The end of the week was more than welcome, even if they would be working through the weekend to finish up their backlog. The extra few hours of sleep they'd be able to get wouldn't go amiss.

Chance threw his partner another can of milk and crashed down into the sofa.

"All sorted, Jake?"

"Yeah, no problems. Plumber will be here on Tuesday."

"Four more days, huh?"

"Looks like."

The TV droned on, the pair sitting and watching in silence. Over this past two years, this had become their nightly routine, sitting and watching with a minimum of conversation. With the city not embroiled in some dire crisis every other week, conversation topics quickly ran dry; one could only talk about cars and engines for so long.

It was Chance who spoke first.

"Hey buddy, wanna take the jet out next week?"

Jake turned to face him.

"Chance," he began, "I'm not so sure. We haven't fueled it up in a while, the turbines will need to be cleaned out and I we'll have to recalibrate all the flight surfaces."

He hesitated before continuing.

"I know how you feel though, I've just been thinking...well, it's been a while and…"

"Our SWAT Kats days are over?" said Chance.

"Yeah."

The thought had been on both their minds for quite some time, but until now, neither of them had said it out loud. Perhaps they had been living with the assumption that his was a mere slump, and that one day, the klaxon would sound and they would roar back into action. Two years later and the day hadn't come. The possibility that the city would never need them again was becoming all too real.

If this fact bothered Chance, he certainly didn't show it.

"Well buddy," he began with a smile, "it's probably for the best. Can't have Dark Kat terrorising the city just so we can have a bit of fun."

"You happy being a down-and-out mechanic for the rest of your life?" asked Jake.

"Hey, could be worse."

"Well, here's to minimum wage."

"To minimum wage!" said Chance.

The pair's laughter was interrupted by a pair of headlights coming in from the main road, followed by a few brief blasts of a horn. A few moments later, an enforcer cruiser pulled up outside their workshop.

" _What do they want now?_ " thought Jake. Usually, being visited meant they had done something wrong, typically a botched repair job or some other menial task go awry. The enforcers didn't engage in social visits. Still, this was a strange hour to come knocking.

" _At least it's not Burke and Murray_ "

A pair of enforcer patrol officers walked into the reception.

"Specialist Furlong? Specialist Clawson?"

"Yeah?"

Specialist. A rank signifying duties considered outside of the command hierarchy, flashy in name only; there was nothing glamorous or special about working in a salvage yard.

"Organisation wide memo, you'll be expected to attend." the officer said, eyeing the two mechanics up and down, his nose turning up slightly at the smell.

"I hope you plan to wash up some time in the next month."

Typical.

The patrol officer's partner produced a pair of sealed envelopes with the pair's name stamped on the front and handed it to Jake. Quickly about-facing, they returned to their vehicle and drove off, leaving their brief hosts standing slightly bewildered in the reception.

"Well, what do they say?" asked Chance, peering over his partner's shoulder.

Jake turned the envelopes over in his paw. It was a typical enforcer memo, the type they usually received for a specialised repair request. He tore open the seal and removed the contents.

"Attention specialist second class Furlong...that's you." he began.

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"You are required to attend the memorial service of…"

Jake went silent, his eyes scanning quick across the paper.

"Jake….Jake! What does it say?"

"Buddy... this isn't good." 

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:

Well, there's chapter 1, managed to get it out sooner than I had anticipated, perhaps I can stick to a tighter schedule? We'll see. Next couple of chapters are planned out, hopefully going to bust them out this coming week, might even have one up by the weekend. I feel that my dialogue is a bit of the crappy side. If you've got any comments to make, please do; reviews are always appreciated!

AR


	3. Chapter 2 - The Best of Friends

Afternoon light filtered into the dingy motel room, the horizontal blinds splitting it into rays that cast themselves across the room. A distinctive musty scent lingered in the air, in part due to the afternoon's activities, but mostly as a result of the place having not been properly cleaned in some time. Not that it mattered, the clientele who frequented such places weren't concerned about niceties such of room service or even basic cleanliness. Establishments such as this were the run of down-and-outs, drifters, or those looking for a cheap place to enjoy a very specific type of company.

Marco didn't fall into any of these categories.

After as high profile a job as the one he had just pulled, it was good practice to lay low for a period of time. This could be a few days, weeks or even months. The media circus surrounding what he had done in a Megakat city back alley had died down quicker than he had anticipated. As usual, the name of the deceased had not been made public, although come the memorial service and everyone would know. Marco had assumed that was what this was all about, whoever had employed him for this job clearly wanted to send a specific message, and he suspected that it had something to do with one of the two enforcers in that alley.

Strangely though, while the instruction had been to only kill one, and merely injure the other, the final decision had fallen to him.

Marco rolled over and checked the bedside clock.

" _Three fifteen, almost time._ "

Come to think of it, this whole job had reeked of strange. A hundred grand was a fairly typical going rate for this sort of hit, fifty for him and fifty for his crew, yet he had received it all up front. Standard procedure was to receive half upon accepting the job, and half upon completion, or, that's how he'd been doing it. Seemed to have worked.

His mysterious employer, however, had insisted on paying him up front. The only time this would happen is if the job was exceptionally dangerous, which it wasn't, or if the client didn't want to leave behind any debts should the job go sour. Even though the targets were low-ranking nobodies, that would have made sense, had this individual not proceeded to provide Marco with a direct contact number for him. Most likely a burner, but even so, it was a risky move.

Then there was the crew.

Amateurs; violent thugs, not the sort of professional you'd employ to take down an armed target. Sure, good enough for run of the mill strongarm tactics, but not for a precise hit. The fact that he'd left one of them dead in the alley, his brains scattered across the ground, would mean that this whole thing would just look like another case of random gang violence, not the sort of thing you spend a hundred thousand dollars on. It just didn't add up. At least the others would be happy; they only need split their share three ways, rather than four.

" _Unless this was nothing to do with the cop we killed._ "

He quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind; he was a professional, and professionals didn't make it very far if they asked a lot of questions or thought too long and hard about their jobs. Get paid, do the job, keep your mouth shut. Simple.

Macro threw the covers back and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey baby, everything alright?

The she-kat beside him stirred, rubbing her eyes as she propped herself on her forearms.

"Yeah sweetie, just gotta make a call."

"You wanna go again?"

Marco pulled his jeans up and buckled the belt. Spending a bit of his money like this was something he did just to blow off a bit of steam; even the small jobs got the blood pumping a fair amount.

"Nah, sweetie, just get your tail outta here. How much do I owe you?"

"Three hundred."

The gray furred kat fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a pawful of crumpled bills.

"Here you go." said Marco, "Make it three fifty, I'm feeling generous, now be a good girl and scoot off."

The she-kat smiled playfully at him.

"Well, don't keep me out of the loop for too long, I'll be waiting for you!"

Marco could help but feel a small pang of affection as she left the room. Carla was a good girl, it was almost a shame to pay for her company. Almost.

He finished dressing and reached again into his wallet, pulling out a small piece of paper.

" _A few minutes early, don't suppose he'll mind. Might as well get to it._ "

His generous mood extended far enough for him to leave twenty dollars for whoever would come and clean the mess he'd made of the room. A few cans of beer, cigarette butts and some rather dirty bedsheets wasn't the worst state he'd ever left a motel room in. Nevertheless, it wasn't exactly pleasant. At least the smell of smoke went some way to cover the otherwise mouldy odour.

If it was cleaned at all.

With a slam, he closed the door and walked out into the parking lot. The usual throng of vagrants and gangers were scattered about the lot, smoking, picking fights or otherwise being a nuisance. Marco knew to avoid them, no sense in causing trouble and drawing unwanted attention. He gave a particularly rowdy group a wide berth and made for the motel's sole working public phone. Inserting two quarters into the phone, he dialed the number written on the scrap of paper. It picked up after one ring.

Speak.

"Marco here, checking in like you asked."

Where are you?

"Out of town. Don't worry, I'm alone."

Excellent. Good work with those enforcers, I see everything went to plan.

"Not everything, one of the hoods you sent didn't make it, got his brains blown out by one of the cops."

Did you take care of him?

"No, I let him go, just like you asked. Did the other one in."

Well, either way it works. Are you sure he lived?"

"Yeah, I checked up on it myself. He'll be holed up in Megakat Civic for a while."

Good. Anything else?

Marco hesitated.

"Well, now that you mention it, yes, there is something else. You mentioned before that if this went off without a hitch you might have something else for me. I'm not going to ask why you want all this done, but you're offering good money, so if you have work, I'm not going to say no."

He could almost hear the grin on the other end of the line.

If you remember that, you should remember what else I said. Are you sure you want in?

"Yeah, I want in."

Great. I had a good feeling about you, let's hope I'm not mistaken. Before we meet though, you've got to take care of that other item of business I mentioned. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.

"Alright, consider it done. I'll get onto it."

Tonight.

"Tonight? That's a tough call, what makes you think they'll even listen to me?"

Because you're going to offer them two hundred thousand dollars.

It was Marco's turn to grin. It was suddenly clear why this kat had picked the thugs he had for the previous job. Whoever he was, he knew a thing or two about the criminal mind, and was clearly able to use it to spin these sorts of situations to his advantage. Luckily, Marco had ended up as a piece more important than a pawn in whatever plan this was all part of.

"Ok. I'll sort it out."

See that you do.

The line went dead.

Marco breathed a sigh of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd never done anything like this before. This was heavy stuff, and most certainly not the sort of thing you'd want to develop a reputation for, even among the more ruthless criminals in the city. His hopefully soon-to-be regular employer hadn't mentioned a price for this job, but Marco knew better than to ask. The fact that he'd casually dropped mention of two hundred grand suggested that whoever he was, he was well financed. Of course, there was still the matter of completing the job.

" _Time to make some more headlines._ "

He picked up the received and inserted two more quarters, dialing a number from memory. Three rings this time.

"Hey, it's me."

###### ###### ######

Ulysses Feral, Commander of the Megakat City Enforcers, sat in his high backed chair in his office suite and the peak of Enforcer Headquarters. Seven feet tall, the imposing kat towered over his contemporaries and adversaries alike. With thirty five years on the force, fifteen of those in command, Feral had seen almost everything that the city had to throw at him. While the threats had been equal parts bizarre and dangerous, he had seen them all off with unflinching determination, even if the spotlight did occasionally shift from the stalwart efforts of the Enforcers to a pair of hotshot vigilantes.

But it had been some two years since they had shown their faces. For two years, the citizens of Megakat city knew that the Enforcers were in charge, that they were the ones to turn to when in need of protection. It was a roll that Feral had executed to the best of his ability all these years.

Time, however, catches up with every kat, and Feral was no exception. No approaching his late 50s, the time for retirement was edging ever closer. And so he had spent the better part of the past 18 months scouring the organisation for potential successors.

Naturally, there was only one choice.

His niece, recently promoted to captain upon his order, was the obvious choice. Calm under pressure, a crack pilot, street smart with just a touch of rebelliousness that reminded Feral a little too much of himself in his youth, he was certain she'd grow to become the commander that the Enforcers needed.

" _If only everyone saw it that way._ "

Feral scrolled through the long list of e-mails that required his attention on a daily basis. Most were the typical administrative drudgery that was expected in his position, but more and more, he was being contacted by the Megakat City Civic Security Authority, the de jure civilian oversight body of the Enforcers. A spineless as they typically were, they were beginning to ask questions about his decision to promote Felina. He had expected such questions to be asked, indeed it was this very fact that had caused him to hold off on her promotion for such a length of time, a deserved as it as she was. Feral abhorred sycophants and favouritism, and both he and Felina knew that she had to spend a little extra time as a lieutenant for the sake of organisational unity.

Feral began composing a reply.

ATTN: MCCSA….

He paused, his paws resting on the keyboard.

" _Actually, I've had enough for today, this can wait until tomorrow._ "

Feral hadn't forgotten that it was the Civic Security Authority who had pressured him into promoting Steele to the position of Lieutenant Commander. He had done so partly to make them happy, but mostly because at the time, Megakat City seemed to be gripped by disasters on a seemingly weekly basis, and he simply didn't have the time or the energy to fight their decision. It was only though Steele's immense ineptitude that he was able to discharge him without the city councillors kicking up a fuss. Ineptitude that had almost cost Feral his life.

They could wait.

And so he'd handed Felina some seemingly mundane assignments to sink her teeth into as part of her new position. As dull as arranging a memorial service was, she needed to appreciate her responsibilities from a viewpoint that wasn't down the sights of a rifle, or through the HUD of a fighter jet. Of course, this had meant that Feral himself didn't need to make the arrangements; he'd attended far too many memorial services during his career, even the small luxury of not having to plan the next was appreciated.

It was the worst part of the job, in his opinion, yet possibly the part he took the most seriously. For fifteen years, for every enforcer that had fallen in the line of duty, he had delivered the news to their families personally. He couldn't expect those under his command to follow him if he didn't take responsibility for their safety. This included bearing the burden when things went wrong.

He remembered all the grief stricken faces, every single one, and Vincent's parents were no exception. Rather than let it get to him, it steeled his conviction that what he was doing in the pursuit of Megakat City's safety was right.

On second thought, the councilors could wait all the way until next week, response deadlines be damned.

Feral thumbed the switch on his office intercom.

"Sergeant."

Sir?

"Call my car."

###### ###### ######

Marco pulled his aging pickup into the diner's parking lot. He was late, but that was intentional. This meeting was important, and if he was going to walk out of it on top he needed his wits about him. This meant putting the other party at ease. A few cups of coffee and a bit of time to sit and relax could mean the difference between a friendly chat and a paranoid breakdown.

He killed the engine. Places like this were ideal for such encounters; a remote highway far away from the city lights; the only signs of civilisation out here were the diner and an old salvage yard. Perfect for clandestine business.

Although it might be a stretch to call this clandestine.

There were a few other vehicles parked out the front of the run down diner; the old tow-truck was of little concern, just someone liable to get in the way. However, the trio of obnoxious, hotted up muscle cars parked across five or so bays told Marco that his "contacts" were already there, likely stuffing their faces with cheap, greasy food. Perfect.

Marco entered the diner. Other than the three hoods he had called here sitting in a corner booth, the only other customer was a large yellow standing off to one side, staring aimlessly off into the distance.

"Yo, Marc!"

Marco cringed. Sure, it looked like he might just be meeting someone for a meal, but it was bad practice to go shouting names out like that. The kat in question was the de-facto leader of the group of thugs he had been teamed up with for the alleyway job. A young tom by the name of Alec, he was definitely the smartest of the lot, yet not smart enough to move beyond common thuggery. To his right sat a large, overweight kat who everyone just called Max, although Marco suspect that wasn't his real name. Probably something like Maxwell or Maximillion. Max was currently in the process of shovelling a rather unappetising looking burger into his gullet, with a second one sitting on his plate. The third, sitting opposite them, was a quieter kat with dark fur almost the same shade as Marco's. He hadn't bothered to catch his name, and he didn't speak enough to warrant learning it.

Marco sat down next to the quiet one, facing Alec.

"How the leg?" he asked.

"Fine, fine." replied Alex, "shot just passed through the meat, nothing major."

Max gave a brief snort.

"Got something to say, fatty?" quipped Alec.

"Fine my tail," said Max in between mouthfuls of burger, "You wouldn't stop complaining about it for a whole week!"

"You try getting shot in the leg!"

"I'm not that clumsy."

"Yeah, well I'm surprised that no-one has shot your fat ass yet, pretty much impossible to miss. Did you really need two burgers?"

"Hey, it's two for one!"

"Alright, boys, calm down." said Marco. "We're not here to compare…"

"Can I get you anything?"

Perfect timing. Marco looked up and saw a tired looking she-kat looking down at him. She wore a fairly typical waitress apron with her hair tied into a bun.

"Yeah, just coffee please."

The waitress made no effort to hide her exasperation as she turned away.

"Cheapskate." she muttered under her breath.

"Woah, woah, hold on sweetie," began Marco. The she-kat turned back around to face him.

"Look, I'm sorry, I've had a rough day." he said, fetching a rolled up twenty from his jacket pocket and extending it towards her. "Could you brew me up some fresh coffee, make it nice at hot. I'll order some food in a bit, just need to have a little chat with my friends here."

She took the money from his outstretched paw and quickly pocketed it, her mood perking up noticeably.

"Sure thing."

Marco turned back to the trio of thugs. They were all grinning ear to ear.

"Someone's feeling charitable. The coffee here isn't worth fifty cents." said Alec.

"Shut up." shot Marco. "Anyway, like I was trying to say, we're here to talk about a job. Something's just come up. It's big."

"Sounds big, like, two hundred grand big. So what's the score?"

Marco leaned in.

"Ok," he began, "if you want in on this job, I need a yes or a no right no. No questions, no backing out. I haven't been given the details yet, but it's going to bit harder than what we pulled last month."

Max finished his first burger and picked up his second, pausing to briefly utter "I'm in.", before resuming his eating.

Marco turned to the silent kat to his left. "You?"

"Yeah, as long as it pays."

"Alec?"

Alec leaned back, fidgeting with his whiskers.

"Well, this is a bit strange, don't you think. The money is good, but I'm worried that we're getting in a bit deep here. I haven't been in this game as long as you, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea."

" _Smart kid._ "

"That's how it works," replied Marco, "sometimes you go in blind, we're not exactly big on occupational health and safety in this business. You want the money, you don't ask questions."

Alec mused over it for a second before responding.

"Ah what the hell, this is too good to pass up. So what's next?"

"Here's your coffee."

The waitress placed a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of Marco and flashed him a quick smile.

"Do you think you could leave the pitcher here?" he asked.

She wordlessly placed the large glass jug on the table before returning to the kitchen.

Marco glanced about; the large yellow tabby had left, leaving him and his group the only customers left in the diner. Now or never.

"Ok boys," he began, "I had a word to our friend this afternoon, he gave me some pretty clear instructions as to how we're going to go about this."

Alec shifted excitedly in his seat.

"Yeah, well, what is it, Marc?"

Marco reached again into his jacket and produced a small photo which he slid across the table, face down.

"Have a look at this."

Alec reached out.

In a flash of steel, Marco's right arm shot out from under the table, tightly clutching a large serrated hunting knife. In one fluid motion, he brought it down upon Alec's outstretched paw, slicing through and pinning it and the photo to the table.

Alec's eyes went wide in shock, his mouth opening noiselessly.

With his free arm, Marco swung left, collecting the coffee pitcher as he went. With a shattering impact he crashed the glassware across the face of the kat to his left. The usual quiet nature of his victim was instantly shattered as he howled in pain, the boiling liquid searing his flesh. Instinctively, his paws shot to cover his eyes. Marco followed the coffee pot up with a vicious elbow jab to the kat's throat.

Good. Fatty's turn.

Despite being in his forties, Marco was still in good physical shape. In a single, rapid movement, he kicked out from the booth and drew his pistol. He had spent the afternoon tinkering with the discharge capacitor; while it would pack a punch, it would only be good for three shots.

Three shots was all he was going to need. He leveled the weapon on Max and started squeezing the trigger.

A flash of movement from Alec.

Marco's instincts had been correct; Alec certainly wasn't stupid. Even with a knife driven all the way through his paw, he had the sense to reach for his own weapon before he did anything so embarrasing as screaming.

" _Good show, kid, but too slow._ "

Marco delivered a savage kick to Alec's face, knocking loose a few teeth, before returning his attention to Max. Max looked on in simple, dumbstruck awe and the laser beam pierced his chest, searing his overburdened heart and lungs into a solid mass of cooked flesh and fat.

The quiet one.

Well, not so quiet anymore. The kat whose name he'd never bothered to learn remained unaware right up until his death, his only thoughts those of blistering pain as the coffee continued to burn at his flesh and fur. Marco's second shot hit him square between the eyes, the heat of the beam fusing his paws to his forehead, forever freezing the expression of contorted agony across his face.

For the second time that day, Marco's heart was racing. Two down, one to go.

He turned his attention to Alec. The younger kat's face was stained with blood from his broken nose and smashed teeth. The shock of the attacks had caused him to drop his own pistol on the diner floor. Not wanting to take any chances, Marco kicked it away.

"Marc, you bastard!"

"My apologies. Where do you want it, head or heart?"

"Go to hell!"

Marco discharged the final round of his pistol into Alec's chest. He hadn't meant to mess his face up like he had, if he was going to off someone the least he could do is show them the professional courtesy of leaving them recognisable. Still, he had had to improvise, Alec had turned out slighter quicker than he had planned for. All in all, it had been quick, if somewhat messy.

The waitress screamed.

This was the part of the job that Marco was far less able to deal with. He knew his problem could be solved with a few more shots, if he had them, but that wasn't how he went about business. This required a more subtle approach.

His pistol hanging by his side, he walked slowly towards the terrified she-kat.

"Hey there… I'm not going to hurt you."

God he sounded cheesy. From lethal hitman to bumbling idiot, just like that.

If he sounded trite, the she-kat certainly didn't notice. Tears welled up in her eyes, her arms and legs shaking in fear. This was the sort of thing that employees of diners, convenience stores and the like got told about, but, of course, never expect to actually happen to them. Hand over the money, don't be a hero and 99% of the time, the criminal just walks away. No-one gets hurt.

The three corpses in the booth suggested that this was a one-percenter.

"Hey," continued Marco, "does this place have cameras?"

"W-w-what?"

"Cameras! You know, security?"

She silently shook her head, still shaking uncontrollably.

"Ok then. Well, I'll be going now... sorry about the mess."

" _Really? "Sorry about the mess?" Just shut up and go!"_

He made his way to the door, stopping briefly before exiting,

"Don't worry, you won't be seeing me again."

Without another word he left the diner. The sun had well and truly set by now, the lone street light barely illuminating the parking lot. Perfect for a leisurely getaway. Marco entered his vehicle; the engine spluttering to life as he keyed the ignition. The waitress would likely come to her sense in a few minutes and call the Enforcers. Time to move.

Marco pulled out into the highway and headed back towards Megakat city.

###### ###### ######

Something stronger had been on the cards after all.

Outwardly, the SWAT Kats were daredevil hotshots, screaming in at a moment's notice to save the day then disappearing just as quickly. No-one would stop to think that the kats behind the masks were real, living people, with fears, emotions and lives of their own. The ramifications of the catastrophic events that necessitated the existence of the SWAT Kats were, despite the severity of their nature, quickly forgotten by the citizens of the city. Perhaps this was a natural response; dwelling on painful memories was always unpleasant, and most choose to quickly move on.

The same was true of Jake and Chance; they felt bad, occasionally even gutted, every time they read the news and saw that the most recent move by the likes of Dr Viper or Dark Kat meant that a number of enforcer officers wouldn't be going home to their families that night. They didn't blame themselves for it, but it still weighed upon them. This time was no different.

Chance raised his glass, "To Artie and Vincent."

"Artie and Vincent."

The pair hadn't known Vincent, but they had known Artie, albeit not all that well, despite being a few years ahead of him on the force. A couple of times he had tagged along on a patrol, back during his rookie days. He had seemed like a nice kat, perhaps a little quiet, but with a good heart.

Now his partner had been murdered, and he would be in hospital for the foreseeable future.

"I wonder how Feral is handling this, doesn't have us around anymore to shift blame onto." said Chance.

Jake forced out a smile, "Hey, you know Feral, he's a stickler for rules, but I'm sure the SWAT Kats are the furthest thing from his mind at the moment."

"Guess we'll get to see him give a speech of some sort at this service. We going?"

The smaller kat put his glass down on the countertop and leaned back in his chair.

"I suppose we better." he replied, "Wanna throw on the flight suits? This Vincent guy sounds like he might have appreciated that."

A snort of laughter from Chance.

"Ha, yeah right. Feral would go berserk."

"Roger that, buddy."

###### ###### ######

Marco drove the last few blocks to his small inner city apartment. Finding parking at this time of night would be a problem. He circled the block a few times before pulling into an available bay, a short five minute walk from his home. The stroll, although short, was a good chance for him to clear his head; the brisk, cool air invigorating him, the gentle buzz of distant freeway traffic a calming and familiar sound. The day's work was done, all he need do now was wait until he was contacted again, something he didn't expect to happen for a few weeks. Time enough to enjoy his recent windfall, recently doubled to one hundred thousand dollars as a reward for tying up loose ends.

"Spare some paper, brother?"

He'd lived here since his enforcer days, and had long since learned to ignore the homeless rabble that surrounded the building. Even in a good a mood as he currently was, his generosity only went so far. Without a further thought for the vagabond, Marco produced his keys from his pocket and opened the graffiti stained door of the apartment complex. As usual, the elevator was out of service, forcing him to climb a dozen flights of stairs to his apartment.

A final scent-check to ensure he didn't smell of blood, sweat or other bodily fluids.

" _All good._ "

Marco opened his door and stepped inside.

"I'm home."

"Daddy!"

A small kat, clad in floral pajamas and clutching a plush bear to her side, came charging out of one of the bedrooms.

"Hey there, kitty-kat."

Marco scooped the child up in his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"You said you wouldn't be gone for so long this time!"

Marco felt a pang of guilt at the accusation. It was true, he did tell his daughter that he'd only be gone a few days. He hated having to leave her alone for such lengths of time, but in his line of work, it was sometimes necessary.

"And you," said Marco, "said that you'd be in bed by eight!"

She did her best impression of feigning ignorance.

"But I wanted to wait for you!"

"Well, I'm home now. Let's get you to bed."

Marco walked into her room and lay her down on the bed. She had his dark colouring for the most part, save for a few white patches on her face; that would be her mother's genes coming through.

Not that she'd remember what her mother looked like. Ever since his wife had left, it had just been the two of them in this small downtown apartment. Not an ideal environment for raising a child, but Marco had managed to scrape together enough money to send her to a good school. With his recent run of luck, he was hoping they might be able to move somewhere nicer.

"Have you been getting to school on time?"

She vigourously nodded her head.

"Good girl."

He walked to the door and flicked off the lights.

"I'll make pancakes in the morning. Night night, kitty."

"Goodnight Daddy, don't forget your letter."

"What letter?"

"A nice kat came past earlier and gave me a letter to give to you. It's on the kitchen counter."

Marco felt a lump in his throat. Heart pounding for the third time that day, he walked into his tiny kitchen. There it was, staring up at him, a manila envelope with the name "Marco Gatti" spelled across the front.

" _What have I got myself into?_ "

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
Well, managed to get that chapter out quicker than I thought I would! Next chapter coming along shortly. Almost done with the setup here, so I'm hoping to dive into some action soon enough. I'm still not all that happy with my dialogue, I'm feeling it's a bit weak. Any suggestions are welcome! Updated the story description as well.

Also updated my profile, check it out!

Additional thought: Why is "action" not a category you can put a story into on this site?


	4. Chapter 3 - Cops and Robbers

"FRAG OUT!"

"RELOADING!"

The shouts of her comrades crackled over the radio, barely audible above the gunfire. Once again, she was in the thick of it. Be it through poor planning, a superior enemy or just dumb luck, the she-kat was once again outnumbered and outgunned.

A grenade landed at her feet.

" _Ugh, how many of these blasted things are there? How can they see me?_ "

She jumped five feet clear, vaulting over a bullet-ridden concrete freeway divider and crouched down.

BOOM!

The blast wave thundered over here, throwing up dust and debris, obscuring her vision.

A scream, followed by a body.

Popping up over the divider, she caught the last moments of her squadmate's life as his body ragdolled limply through the air, colliding with the wall opposite her foxhole. Only two of the left now.

She fumbled briefly for the right words, but managed to bark the order loudly and clearly.

"Advance!"

With a leap she sprung from cover, weapon at the ready. It was a short sprint across an open road to the relative cover of an overturned bus. Her squadmate was waiting, clad in a ghillie suit, sniper rifle at the ready.

"Advance!" she shouted again. Nothing. He simply stared blankly at her, his expression completely devoid of emotion.

" _Move you idiot!_ "

The sharp burst of a rapid fire weapons sounded to her rear. Her attacker's aim was slightly off, she managed to avoid the attack with a quick sidestep.

" _Still in the open, need cover….crud!_ "

A second burst caught her off guard, slamming into her vest.

Without thinking, she wheeled around on the spot, bring the shotgun up and letting loose three shells.

BANG BANG BANG!

The weapon recoiled violently in her hands, jerked upwards as her attacker was blasted backwards from the force of the blow, sprawling across the ground, his limbs twisted and contorted at bizarre angles.

"Tango down!" she reported automatically.

" _Let's try this again._ "

"Advance!"

Still no response.

" _Kat's alive, what is everyone…_ "

The body of the sniper on the ground cut her thoughts short. She was on her own. Again. This was hardly the first time; it had been happening with increasing regularity ever since she had joined up with this group of idiots. Whoever was sent in to fight with her clearly had no idea how to handle themselves. Left, right and centre they dropped like flies, leaving the lone she-kat to try to piece together some sort of resistance to the enemy's relentless assault.

She checked her ammo; twelve shells, one grenade. Not alot.

"Well, it's now or never, I've only got one chance to turn this around."

Breaking into a run, the she-kat sprinted as fast as she could, rounding the corner of the bus, ready to face her opponents.

Right into an outstretched knife.

" _Oh no…_ "

There was no pain; she felt nothing as the ground rushed up. It was all over, this was the end.

Callie Briggs threw the controller aside in disgust.

Why she had decided that this was a suitable way to spend her day off, she didn't know, but here she was, playing video games like some kid. As it turned out, it was difficult for a figure of such public prominence to simply relax; see a movie, take a walk in a park, or even just have a meal at a nice resturant, all these things were inevitably more trouble than they were worth. Either because of some desperate media personality, some pseudo-intellectual political pundit up for a debate or just a member of the public who hadn't voted for her, non-official public appearances were out of the question for Calico Briggs.

It had been one of the interns working in the Mayor's Office that had suggested she turn to video games. Ostensibly anonymous and with with at least some semblance of social interaction, it had been suggested to her as an easy way to have a bit of fun, relax and perhaps strike up a friendly conversation or two.

She just hadn't expected the whole experience to be so… vulgar.

" _Perhaps I'm just bad?_ "

Callie picked herself up from her couch and stretched out, extending her arms behind her head and rising up onto the tips of her toes. It was already one in the afternoon, yet she was still clad in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties. Day off or not, she wasn't in college anymore, and in her current state she hardly presented an image befitting a high-ranking public servant.

Or a functioning adult.

The blonde she-kat padded her way across her apartment to a rather messy kitchen counter. A quick re-heat saw the morning's coffee drinkable again; a vice she had been indulging in a little too much of late.

She felt she needed it. Her position as deputy mayor of a city of some twenty-five million kats certainly had its perks, such as her spacious uptown apartment, but with these perks came a crushing workload and a heavy dose of responsibility. For the most part, she had been able to handle the stress of the job without issue; Manx was not as incompetent as he let on, although he did, without question, shirk work whenever the opportunity presented itself. The fact that major decisions often fell to Callie was part of the job.

This, however, was different.

The past couple of months there has been rumours, whispers in the papers and on late-night TV; Manx was unlikely to run for office again. Twelve terms as Mayor seemed to be enough for the ageing kat, and the time had finally come to pass the baton.

Of course Callie was running; she had worked her entire career for this opportunity. The elections may be some two years away, but it never hurt to begin preparations early. There was a lot to be done; campaign funding and management, advertising and public appearances, not to mention cosying up to some of the more influential media personalities. Ann Gora would have a thing or two to say.

She downed the remainder of the coffee.

" _Well Callie, last long weekend you might have in a while, and you decided to spend it in your pajamas._ "

Perhaps she would take a nap.

###### ###### ######

"Aw Chance, watch the bumps!"

The old towtruck bounced up the access road that connected the salvage yard to the highway. While well maintained by the pair of mechanics, the vehicle was certainly well past its prime. Difficult to start in the cold, prone to overheating in the hot and with bodywork that looked more at home among the mountains of scrap metal than in their workshop. The suspension wasn't great, either.

"Buddy," replied Chance, "this old girl can handle the rough stuff, don't sweat it!"

"Well if you don't pop a suspension shackle you're gunna dislocate my spine!"

His complaints were short-lived; the pair soon found themselves pulling out onto the highway. Shifting gears, Chance pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The truck roared, backfired and ever so slightly picked up speed. A minute or so later and they had finally managed to reach a less-than-respectable 50 miles an hour.

"Hey pal, you know you didn't have to come along, right?"

Jake turned to face his partner. The larger kat looked genuinely perplexed as to why he had decided to accompany him downtown.

"You didn't think I'd trust you to pick out your own suit, did you?" he quipped.

"What's wrong with brown?!"

"Woah, nothing's wrong with the colour, hotshot, you just need a new one… not my fault your jacket doesn't fit anymore."

Jake clutched his shoulder and recoiled in mock surprise as Chance landed a friendly punch on his friend's arm. Seems he was still in high enough spirits to take a playful jab at his waistline. In all honestly though, he didn't care much for whatever horrid suit his partner picked out for the memorial service; he just wanted an excuse to get out of the salvage yard. With the plumbing finally working again, the blissful shower he had enjoyed that morning had dramatically lifted his mood. Suddenly, the muddy, rusty yard seemed so very depressing, and a jaunt into town seemed a fine idea.

The truck backfired a couple more times.

"Hey Chance, reckon Feral might step down now that the city seems to be back in order."

"Ha! Feral, step down?" Chance snorted, "This is what he wanted! No crazies, no SWAT Kats, just a city full of good little kats doing what they're told."

"Well… it's not all bad."

"No, I guess you're right. I just…"

"Just what?"

"I just… geez, what happened here?"

The truck rounded a bend and came upon half a dozen parked enforcer cruisers. The area immediately around them had been cordoned off with yellow caution tape, blocking a full two lanes of the highway. A pair of enforcers stood on the centre line of the road, directing traffic around the obstruction, while a small army of kats pieced over the scene.

It seemed that something serious had gone down at Schmoke's.

Chance slowed the truck as they approached the diner. It wasn't unusual to see enforcer activity out on the highway; from time to time someone would report a suspicious kat or perhaps an abandoned vehicle. Even so, neither Jake nor Chance had ever seen so many.

"Let's see what's going on." he said.

Chance pulled the vehicle to a stop opposite one of the enforcer officers. Glancing left and right, the deputy crossed the two open lanes and approached the truck.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

"Hey buddy," started Chance, "my friend and I live just up the road, wondering if you could tell us what's going on here?"

The officer immediately became defensive.

"Sir, the enforcers have the situation in order! Please move along!"

"Woah, ease up turbo!" cut in Jake, "we're enforcers too… here"

Jake ruffled through the glove compartment and produced two tattered scraps of paper. The officer snached them from his hand and eyed them up and down. A smirk broke out across his face.

"Specialists, hey? Ok, sure, why not." He leaned in, resting his arms on the doorframe. "Seems that a couple of hoods got themselves all shot up. Whoever did it was a good shot, bit messy though. Waitress saw the shooter; tall kat, black fur, took off in a pickup. Not much else to go on."

Jake looked towards Chance, "Sounds bad."

"Yeah, it's not pretty," continued the officer, "but at least they're just shooting each other."

He began to turn back towards the road before catching himself. His smirk turned into a grin.

"Hey, if you don't mind me asking, are you the two kats who work up at the salvage yard?"

Chance and Jake exchanged nervous glances.

"Yeah…" they replied in unison.

"Are you the two who blew up Enforcer Headquarters all them years ago?"

Jake opened his mouth, but Chance spoke first. "Uh….yeah, that's us."

"Ha! I knew it! Wow, you guys sure have fallen a long way, pilots to junkers...sorry...specialists. Ha!"

Chance rolled his eyes, "Don't remind us."

Once again the engine spluttered and kicked as the tow truck lurched forward, leaving the giggling enforcer officer in its wake. Jake half expected Chance to run the truck off the road with the way he was driving. A quick glance over at his partner, however, and he saw that the larger kat's cocky grin had returned.

"All good, buddy?"

"Hey, why don't we take the jet and do a flyby of those losers?"

"Chance…."

Jake couldn't help but feel slightly irritated at the officer's attitude; junkers or not, there was no need to laugh. Chance, however, seemed to thrive on the thought of conflict, even if it only was with some rookie patrol cop.

" _Still itching to take the jet out…._ "

###### ###### ######

"Yes, take that!"

Ravi pumped his fist excitedly in the air.

"That's right, bow down before me!"

A little too loud.

"Bagha!"

Ravi cringed; Felina would only use his last name if she was upset, either with him or someone else. Deftly hiding the controller under his desk, he turned to face the door.

"Yes, Captain Feral I… are you ok?"

Felina looked slightly sleep deprived; her usually well-kept white highlights had a slight fuzz about them and her eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, was out late last night. Thought I'd try to have a bit of fun."

She rubbed her eyes wearily.

"Anyway," she continued, "did you get those intrusions sorted out?"

Ravi swiveled back around to face his computer monitor. A few quick keystrokes and he brought up a traffic meter, showing login attempts for the enforcer's network. Scrolling down, he stopped at a huge block of repeated attempts.

"Yes, Captain Feral, it's all done. Not very difficult, I do not think whoever this was knew what they were doing."

Ravi clicked a few more times.

"But I am a bit worried. Over two thousand attempts over ten minutes, really clogged the system up."

"What's to worry about?" asked Felina.

"Well, this was nothing more than a brute force attempt, but I still had a very hard time tracing the attack. Whoever did it might not know how to hack in, but they know how to cover their tracks."

"But you blocked them in the end, right?"

"Oh yes, no problems Captain Feral!"

Ravi was positively beaming. He loved any chance to talk about his work, even if his audience only understood one out of every ten words.

Felina was slightly dismissive.

"You know more about this than I do, Ravi, I'm sure you've got it under control."

She turned to leave.

"Captain Feral, where are you going?"

"Ugh, I begged my uncle to let me out of the office so he threw some multiple katicide case at me, I've got to head out to some trashy joint out of town, see how they're getting on."

"Oh, well, good luck!

The she-kat disappeared from the small server room.

Ravi was going to ask if he could leave early again, but upon seeing Felina's mood, had decided against it. He wouldn't have been able to ask in good conscious anyway, seeming as he had spent most of the day playing video games rather than do any real work. The attacks against their computing system really had been quite amateurish in nature, and Ravi had been able to deal with them quickly. Still, he was a bit perplexes as to how well the attacker had covered his tracks. Maybe they were just messing around.

Ravi did a quick scan to make sure that none of the other kats in the server room were paying him any attention and retrieved his game controller from his desk.

" _Damn shotguns…_ "

###### ###### ######

The chopper touched down in the cordoned off parking lot of the diner. Captain Felina Feral stepped from the cockpit and strode towards the waiting enforcers. Since her promotion, she had been weighed down with an increasing amount of office work and hadn't been able to fly as much as a result. Any excuse to to take a chopper out for a spin was fine by her, even if it was to attend some dead-end crime scene. Her uncle might have a thing to two to say about misappropriation of resources; a cruiser would have sufficed for this trip, but what's the point of a promotion if you don't get to enjoy a few perks. Despite all of this, she considered herself one of the better pilots in the organisation, and reckoned she could still give the fighter jocks from the air wing a run for their money, even if her hours were down.

An patrol officer ran over to greet her, looking a little puzzled as to why a helicopter had just landed in the parking lot.

"Ma'am, we're almost done over here, the boys are just cleaning up now."

Felina pulled out a notepad, "Got anything new for me?"

The enforcer pulled out his own pad and started rattling off names.

"Well," he began, "just like you were told, three victims, two shot in the head, one through the chest. Doesn't appear to be execution style, and witnesses said that they saw a brief struggle."

"Witnesses?"

"Yeah, one of the waitresses from the diner. She's down at HQ under watch, probably going to keep her in protective custody overnight, poor girl's pretty shaken up."

Felina made a note to talk to this waitress.

"What about the victims, any identification?" she asked.

The officer flipped over a couple of pages of his clipboard.

"Yes, actually, this one here." he motioned to one of the body bags laid out on the ground, "Name's Alexander Purvil. Wealthy family; father owns a chain of hardware stores but we believe they've been estranged from each other for a number of years. Nothing major on his record, a couple of traffic infringements and a minor possession charge. Might have ran with the wrong crowd but seemed reasonable smart, never got himself done for anything big."

"Not smart enough it would seem."

"Yeah… ok… this one here, Maxwell Chesapeake, real nasty piece of work. Possession, assault, theft, extortion, this guy has done some serious time. Seems he ran with the Megakat Mob up until he dropped off the radar about a year ago. Typical thug for hire, dirty and cheap."

Felina continued to scribble notes. "What about that guy?", she said, motioning her pen towards the final bag.

"Oh. No clue. No-one has been able to ID him, no records or warrants, nothing. Probably some crook from out of town. Had a pistol on him. No shots fired."

Felina kneeled down and peeled back the black plastic from the body.

" _Ugh…_ "

"Wow, whoever we're after did a real number of this guy."

"No kidding," replied the officer, "but we don't have much to go on. Tall and dark, mid forties was all we got from the waitress. No security footage either."

"Alright…."

Felina jotted down a few final notes.

"Well, sergeant, looks pretty clear from where I'm standing. Either a deal gone sour or some gang dispute. If there's nothing else I'll close this one up."

"Actually…" The enforcer sergeant stammered briefly.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure if I should bring this up, we haven't got the results back, well, nothing official that is."

Felina immediately focused her attention upon the enforcer.

"If you've got something, tell me."

"Ok...ok. You know the Vincent D'Angelo murder a few weeks back? Some of the guys from forensics did a fibre sweep and picked up a bit of fur from the alley. Did the usual, pigment analysis, chemical scan, pretty routine."

"Go on…"

"So when we were ID'ing the bodies, we took a fur sample to run and...well… the pigment from these two," he motioned to the bodies of Alex and Max, "is almost a perfect match for some of the fibres we found in that alley."

Felina's eyes shot wide open.

"So you're saying that these two were in that alley?"

"No no, well maybe. Like I said, it's not official yet, but it's pretty rare they'll get something this wrong, just seems too convenient to be a coincidence."

Feline furiously scribbled a few more notes.

"Do you think our gunkat was there too?" she asked.

"Unlikely. Probably has nothing to do with it. I'd say these two pulled a hit on someone else's turf and got done in for it."

Felina finished writing.

"Alright sergeant, that will be all. I'll hand this over to the MBI, see if they can dig anything up."

"Ma'am"

Felina returned the curt salute and walked back towards her chopper. This case had suddenly got a whole lot more interesting. Of course, it could be that the lab boys were wrong, and that there was no connection at all between these three and D'Angelo. In Felina's experience, though, coincidences like this were rare. Something was up, and she knew just the kat to speak to to get answers. 

###### ###### ######

The sun had well and truly set as Chance and Jake drove the final stretch of highway towards the salvage yard. The traffic had been horrendous; the trip into town taking two hours each way. Droopy eared and tired, the pair had nevertheless appreciated a day not spent covered in grease or mud. The radio had given out for the umpteenth time, and the pair had spent the past twenty minutes engaged in some light, albeit inane, conversation.

At least Chance had picked out a half-decent suit. While it was just a hire, it had set them back a little; one of the parts of the job that isn't expected to come up.

"Litterbin tonight?"

"You know it, buddy." said Jake. "Special episode too, Lenny Ringtail is making a comeback."

"That crazy kat? He's done too well for himself, should be locked up in Alcatraz."

"Hey, what can I say, the public love him. He's the crazy criminal they can relate to."

Jake, or more specifically, Razor, certainly hadn't forgotten the time he had been, well, swallowed by Madkat. Not a pleasant experience, for certain, but one that was in the past. This new Ringtail seemed more concerned with signing books and milking late night TV for as much publicity as he could than terrorising the city.

With only a few miles left, Schmoke's diner came into view.

"Hey Chance, pull over, would you?"

"Feel like a burger, buddy? The place is going to be shut down for a while."

Chance was correct. All evidence of the crime had been removed, along with the yellow caution tape, yet the diner itself was shut up tight. It would likely be some weeks before it opened again.

Jake jumped out before the truck had fully stopped.

"I just want to have a look around."

Always the curious one.

The smaller kat flicked on a small flashlight and looked around the parking lot. Apart from the tire marks of enforcer vehicles, the place looked like it hadn't been occupied in a long time. It was almost eerie, the lights that normally illuminated the building and outhouses were off, and being as far out of the city as they were, the whole area was cast into a deep darkness.

"Anything?" Chance called from the cab of the tow truck.

" _Maybe._ " thought Jake. He approached the side of the diner. A few ill-kept pot plants and some pieces of trash here and there, but nothing of note…

Except…

" _Bingo!_ "

Jake crouched down next to the wall. There was a very small hole, the edges smooth yet charred, located about fifteen feet from the front doors. To a casual observer, it might be an old fitting, or perhaps an outlet of some sort. To someone with Jake's technical expertise, it was a clue.

"Hey Chance, get over here!"

The large tabby exited the truck and jogged over, crouching down next to his partner.

"What do you make of this?"

Chance ran his finger around the edges of the hole and brought them up to his nose.

"Laser burn." he said, matter-of-factly, "Guess the enforcers didn't think to check the outside of the building."

"Would you?" replied Jake, "Who carries around a pistol powerful enough to punch through a brick wall?"

"Copy that."

Jake stood back up and looked around, "Whoever did this might be more dangerous than the enforcers realise. This wasn't a bunch of hoods having a disagreement over a catnip deal gone sour."

Chance couldn't help but agree. Jake was pretty sharp, and usually right about these things. However, this wasn't their job; leave it up to the detectives at the MBI to look into it, they just had to fix cars and sort scrap.

A part of both of them, however, wanted this to be something more, something big.

Something that couldn't be solved by throwing the book at it.

Something that might need a jet to solve.

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
OK, I swear I'm almost done with the setup, stuff will start happening really soon, I promise! Just give me another chapter or two!

After a bit of feedback, I've decided to drop this down to a T rating. T rating seems to let you get away with a bit of violence, which this has, a *tiny* bit of suggestiveness, which this has, and some minor crude language, which this has. I must admit, it's partly a selfish decision; this will mean my fic will show up on the list without having to adjust the filters. If anyone has any issue with this, please let me know!

A side note: I've discussed in my profile (although not at great length) my thoughts on the SWAT Kats universe. I am trying as much as possible to avoid any real-world connections - this is 100% purely fictional. With that said, in the highly likely case that I have failed to communicate his character effectively, Ravi is supposed to be Indian. What "India" is in the SWAT Kats universe, well, that's open to interpretation.

AR


	5. Chapter 4 - Down the Rabbit Hole

Artie could feel himself slowly going insane.

Years ago, during his enlistment and basic training, he had been prepared for the possibility of being severely injured or even killed on the job; it was something that was drilled into new enforcer recruits. The turbulent events of the past few years had served only to reinforce this attitude. Some twenty four months prior and a dozen or so officers getting killed by whichever psychotic megalomaniac decided to rear their head that month was par for the course, but times were different now, and with different times, came a different type of job.

The danger had given way to routine, and in this, Artie and his fellow enforcers had had to accept that their job had become decidedly average, devoid of much in the way of excitement, adventure or glory. However, it was undoubtedly a change for the better, and the unremarkable nature of this new existence was taken in stride.

His current predicament, on the paw, was certainly not something he had been prepared for.

Three whole weeks holed up in Megakat Civic. Three weeks of tests, doctors visits and having the nurse bath him. Sure, he had received visitors; his family, fellow officers and even a few members of the press, but these had done little to alleviate the crushing boredom.

It wasn't just the boredom, it was the uncertainty. After having lay unconscious in that alley for a number of hours, he had been rushed to Megakat Memorial. The doctors had been able to quickly stabilise him and ensure that he wasn't liable to drop dead. With the immediate danger passed, he had been moved across down to Megakat Civic. In his experience, this meant that the doctors thought he would be in hospital for a good length of time; you didn't end up in Civic unless you were in it for the long haul.

Upon arrival, he had been told in no uncertain terms that he may never walk again. The damage to his spine was extensive, and combined with extensive head trauma, he was in for a long and slow recovery process. Apart from a slight wiggle of the toes on his left foot, he legs were completely numb.

"Nurse!"

So here he was, bedridden and immobile; a shell of his former self. He hadn't even hit the ten year service mark, so any disability pension he could expect would barely cover his likely ongoing medical costs.

"Nurse!"

If only he had been less complacent, he'd still be out there on the beat. And Vince…

"NURSE!"

"Yes, Mr Ross?"

"I'm thirsty."

Strangely enough, the thing that had been causing him the most grief of late was the way he had been treating this nurse. He understood that a kat's temper may suffer in such situations; no-one liked being in hospital, but still he felt ashamed. He just felt so… helpless.

As always, she smiled cheerfully at him, "Of course! Would you like some milk or juice, or perhaps some water?"

"Water, please, I'm sick of juice."

"Absolutely!"

It was disgusting, he thought, the way he had been speaking to her. She was a cute little thing, cheerful to a fault and with a seemingly endless tolerance towards her grumpier patients. A few short moments later and she bounced back in, holding a plastic cup of water.

"Here you are, Mr Ross."

Artie downed the water in a single gulp.

"Another?"

"No, thank you."

She smiled and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Artie's voice surprised even him, "Look… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He couldn't look her in the eye with that expression on her face; it was too friendly, too understanding.

"For the way I'm talking to you. I… it's pretty awful of me, I'm not usually like this. It's just… I dunno, maybe I'm just bored."

He heard the scraping of a metal stool across the floor. Turning around, he came face to face with the nurse, a little closer than he would have liked. A moment later he felt her paw wrap around his, squeezing gently.

"Mr Ross, I know you've been through a lot, I'd be lying if I said I knew what it was like. You're here to get better and I'm here to take care of you, don't worry if you get a little upset from time to time. If you need…"

Artie jerked his paw away from her's

"No!" he yelled, "That's just it! I don't want this, I don't want any of it!"

He hurled the empty cup across the room.

"I don't want you to have to sit her and be so nice to me! I don't want someone to come in three times a day with my meal! It's all so goddamn fake!"

"Mr Ross I…"

He finally turned to face her.

"Look… all I did was get my partner killed and get myself stabbed in the back. How come I'm the one who has someone ask him if he wants milk or juice? I dunno, just call me a jerk or something. I can't handle this anymore."

"Julie."

The smile disappeared from her face, her tone instantly becoming low and sombre.

"...what?"

"My name." she replied, "I'll make you a deal, Mr Ross. Rather than call you a jerk, I'll call you Artie and you can call me Julie. Sound fair?"

Artie felt tears well up in his eyes. In between all the niceties and pampering and well-wishes, everyone had simply forgotten to step back and treat him like a kat. In spite of her straight face and up-front delivery, those few simple words that Julie had spoken to him meant more than a parade or the key to the city. He almost choked giving his response.

"Yeah… sounds fair."

Almost immediately, Julie returned to her typically bubbly self. With a slight skip, she jumped up from the stool and made for the exit of the single bed room.

"Julie?"

"Yes?"

"I think I will have another drink, juice please."

"Sure thing, Artie!"

###### ###### ######

Marco had been pacing back and forth outside the warehouse for a good fifteen minutes by now.

The instructions had been clear and unambiguous; enter the office at exactly quarter past three, ask for Mr Tugger and then do as instructed. Simple. The envelope he had received even contained an advanced payment of twenty thousand dollars for whatever job he was here for.

And that was the problem.

Whoever this kat was, he liked things to go his way. This invitation was as much a fantastic business opportunity as it was a threat, and the message was simple.

I can afford to spend twenty thousand dollars before I even tell you what the job is.

I know where you live.

I know you have a kid.

His situation had escalated very quickly; suddenly he in deep with a situation and an organisation that he didn't fully understand. Money to be made and reputation to be gained for sure, but from here on out, he would have to tread exceptionally carefully.

The grey-furred kat checked his watch.

" _Three seventeen, it's now or never…_ "

A quick check of his jacket and Marco pushed the sliding door to the side and stepped into the building. The immediate area was simply a small reception area, walls thinly constructed of plasterboard with large windows overlooking the warehouse floor. Other than a flimsy wooden door granting access to the rest of the building, a lone desk with a bored looking she-kat was the only notable feature of the room.

She stared at Marco without saying a word, mindlessly chewing on some gum.

"Hi," he began, "I'm here to see Mr Tugger. He's expecting me."

She briefly glanced down and appeared to flick through a ledger, although the dull look in her eyes suggested she was merely going through the motions. He doubted such an appointment would be recorded in official company documents.

She replied without looking up.

"Back of the warehouse, office on the far left, sit in the waiting area."

Marco gave an unconvincing thanks before walking through the door and onto the warehouse floor.

Outwardly, this appeared to be a fairly standard down-and-out warehousing business. A few depressed looking kats milled about, stacking boxes on large industrial shelving units or shifting crates on a tired looking forklift. One would expect that a good number of them would be illegally hired immigrant workers, only there was something slightly amiss.

As Marco walked through the building, each and every one of them gave him a piercing, steely gaze, as if they knew more about him than they were letting on. They backed off suspiciously as he approached, turning side on as if expecting an attack. Marco knew the type; hired muscle, thugs, goons, whatever you want to call them. Stand around and look through, crack a few skulls when need be, maybe move a washing machine or two.

He instinctively ran his paw over the bulge in his jacket pocket. He was surprised he had been allowed in with his pistol, although as he only had three shots, he doubted it would be able ot get him out of trouble. Still, better than nothing.

After the brief walk he arrived at the rear office. Upon entered, Marco found himself in a small waiting area, perhaps intended for use by a receptionist, but furnished only with a handful of moldy old chairs. The office itself had windows similar to the entryway where one could see in or out, but they were completely covered by newspapers. Whoever was in there didn't want to be seen by anyone.

" _Probably not a good idea to try the door…_ "

Remembering what he had been told, Marco took a seat in one of the chairs. A few tense minutes passed in silence.

"You're late."

The voice came from the papered up office. It was far higher and more nasally than it had sounded over the phone. It was slightly muffled, but Marco estimated that the speaker couldn't be more than a dozen feet away.

"Sorry, Mr Tugger, had trouble finding the place." he replied.

"No matter. I trust you found everything in the package to be in order?"

"Yes, yes no problems... aren't we going to meet face to face?"

An uncomfortable pause.

"Not yet," came the voice, "not until I'm completely certain of you. You've done well so far; I wouldn't have asked you here otherwise, but you've got one last hurdle to jump through before I can bring you in."

"Bring me in?"

"You're not a stupid kat, I'm sure you've realised that we're up to something here."

"The thought had crossed my mind." replied Marco.

"Of course. Now, before we go any further, I need something from you. You need to promise me, without reservation, that you're on board until the end. I need kats I can trust. If you have my trust then you also have my wallet, and I pay well. If you don't think you can do this, take the twenty thousand and walk away."

"Do I have much of a choice?"

A slight snicker, "Like I said, you're not stupid."

This was it, the moment of truth. He knew he couldn't back out; he'd come too far, but even the illusion of choice could be a powerful thing.

"I'm in, Mr Tugger." said Marco.

"Fantastic, I knew I hadn't misjudged you."

"So what's the job?"

The voice paused again and the sound of shuffling papers could be heard. Thirty second later and his new employer picked up as if he hadn't missed a beat.

"I'm sure you're aware of the memorial service being held tomorrow for that enforcer you and your thugs did in. I didn't ask you to let the other go for no reason, but you don't need to know about that. All you need to know is that the memorial service is going to be disrupted. This isn't like the last job, I don't want any names showing up in the obituaries over this, keep it clean. Cause a ruckus, smash a few windows, do what you want, just make it loud."

Marco was surprised; so far this amounted to little more than petty vandalism. Even so, who would say no to twenty thousand for something to simple?

"Sound easy enough," replied Marco, "I should be able to take care of that myself. Just give me…"

"Oh no, no, not you. You're going to be doing something else. I want you to pick a small crew to cause this… distraction, your choice this time, use kats that you can trust, I'm sure you have contacts. My assistant will give you a budget to cover costs."

"Ok, so what about me? Where do I fit in?"

"You," the voice said, "are going to take a trip downtown and perform a very specific task for me. It's very easy and you'll have everything you need provided to you. The instructions are in an envelope under your chair, and there's an extra twenty grand in it for you if you, that's well over one hundred thousand you've got so far, more than enough to put your lovely little daughter through college if the time comes."

" _If? Did he just say if?_ "

Marco tensed up at the words; so casual a remark, yet a very real reminder of the very real threat he faced should he run afoul of this kat.

"Ok, Mr Tugger, consider it done."

"Please, drop the "Mr Tugger", I just use that name for the business."

"Business?"

"You don't think this warehouse is just for show? That money I'm paying you doesn't grow on trees."

"Okay, boss."

"Better."

Marco reached under the chair. Sure enough, there was a weighty envelope there, identical in size and appearance to the one he had received at his apartment, right down to the "Marco Gatti" written across the front.

"Don't open it yet, you were just here picking up a courier package, nothing more." said the voice.

"Okay, boss."

"Good. Now don't let me keep you, I'm certain you have business to attend to. We'll meet face to face next time, Mr Gatti."

Marco shivered a bit; the last time he remember being addressed as such was at his discharge hearing. Not a memory he wished to dig up.

The grey kat collected a second package from the otherwise disinterested receptionist on his way out. A quick walk and a few blocks later and he was back at his parked pickup. Once inside, he locked the doors, tore open the top of the envelope and scanned the contents.

Marco smiled; this was certainly bigger than he had anticipated.

" _Very clever…_ "

###### ###### ######

"Ma'am!"

The salute caught her somewhat off guard. By any measure, it was correct procedure to salute an officer, but the eagerness with which her fellow enforcers did so was somewhat surprising. Certainly, she had received her fair share of salutes before her promotion, after all, a lieutenant was a commissioned officer, but it seems that captains got paid that little extra bit of attention.

Felina fumbled slightly trying to return the formality.

"Still a bit sloppy there, captain."

She'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"Sir!"

Better. She quickly caught her step, stopped, about faced and snapped off a well-executed salute to her uncle.

She had been asked to come down to the Enforcer Function Centre to oversee the setup for tomorrow's memorial service, although it didn't seem like there was much she needed to do. She had expected to have everyone look to her for some sort of direction, yet the kats milling about seemed to be on task without any need for supervision. She was more surprised to see her uncle down here.

"Is everything in order?" asked Feral.

"Yes sir, I can't see anything that needs to be…"

"Felina…"

She stopped talking immediately.

"...relax. I'm not here to rain on your parade. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't taken this assignment too seriously."

"Sir?"

"This isn't about showing off," Feral continued, "this is about making you understand that my job… your future job, I hope… requires more than a quick trigger finger. Now, is everything in order?"

Felina shifted nervously. Her uncle was being unusually relaxed. Usually he was so severe.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Feral raised an eyebrow, "...granted."

"Uncle," she began, "you dumped this on my desk and told me to sort it out. The budget for this service is huge and now you come down here and tell me not to take it too seriously? What's going on?"

Feral's severe expression returned.

"Walk with me, Felina."

She followed her uncle as they left the main function hall. Truly, she had been curious from the start as to why this service had been allocated enough money to buy a new helicopter. Standard procedure in the past had been to hold a memorial service once every two months for all officers who had died during that period. Given the nature of the city, that number could be quite high.

Times were different now; the past memorial had been some four months prior, and although it had been for three officers, the incident in question was a mere traffic accident, hardly front page news.

The pair walked in silence for a few minutes before coming to an empty conference room. Feral sat down in a swivel chair at the head of the table.

"Sit." he ordered.

She complied.

"Felina, do you remember the first thing you did after I promoted you to lieutenant?"

A slight grin crept across her face.

"Disobeyed your orders, climbed megakat bridge, took a potshot at The Pastmaster and hitched a ride on the SWAT Kats' wing?"

"Indeed."

Feral's piercing gazed wiped the grin from her face.

"I know your opinion of those two vigilantes, and you know that I don't agree with you, but that's not the issue here. Do you remember what happened afterwards?"

"After the SWAT Kats disappeared?"

Feral nodded.

"We lost a lot of good kats that day…"

"Eighteen officers and thirty two civilians." Feral replied, "We held a service for them two weeks later. The press said "it could have been worse"."

Felina cast her eyes towards the ground. She hadn't been expecting one of her uncle's sombre talks about sacrifice and duty.

"Uncle I…"

Feral cut her off.

"We don't live in that world anymore. We don't have to accept eighteen officers and be glad that it wasn't worse. The SWAT Kats may be heroes in the eyes of the public, but we're the ones that are out there every day, making this city safe; those two hotshots haven't shown their faces in over a year."

"I know," said Felina, "but that doesn't explain why we're spending so much money on a service for one kat."

Feral closed his eyes and leaned back on the chair. He took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"I received a call from Deputy Mayor Briggs last week, she told me that the public were questioning the need for The Enforcers, that there had been discussions at the latest city council meeting to repeal the Enforcer Enabling Act, to make us little more than second rate mall cops."

Felina hadn't considered this at all. The Enabling Act had been passed some three years after the end of Megawar Two, to enable the city to raise what was, in effect, a paramilitary force to protect its citizens from both external and internal threats. As the years went by, it transformed into its modern iteration; a heavily armed police force.

Feral leaned forward before continuing.

"We need to show the citizens of this city that while the dangers they once faced are gone, our officers are still out there making very real sacrifices. One death in the line of duty or one hundred, it doesn't matter, we take care of our own and we honour their service. That's why you have two million dollars to spend on this event; because D'Angelo deserves it. Every enforcer does."

Feral didn't wait for her response before leaving; he simply picked himself up from the chair and left the room.

Felina felt a little lost. Far from being reassured that her job here was a mere formality, it now seemed that an even greater weight had been placed upon her. Was this supposed to be a publicity stunt? Did her uncle still genuinely care about each and every enforcer he had lost under his command? While her original question had been answered, these new ones seemed even more distant and enigmatic.

At the very least she could appreciate her uncle's predicament a little more.

" _I'm not ready for this._ "

###### ###### ######

"Done!"

Chance slammed the hood of the enforcer truck closed. The day was finally at an end, and with it, the last of the enforcer trucks had been serviced. Fluids changed, spark plugs replaced and engines given a general tune-up.

"All sorted out in there?" he yelled into the workshop reception.

"Almost done here…" came Jake's reply.

Chance gave his paws a brief wipe with an already greasy rag, throwing it aside before entering the building. Jake was sitting at the counter, soldering iron in paw as he worked away at the broken tow-truck radio.

"How much longer?"

"Five minutes, this is pretty easy stuff."

Chance walked into the small kitchen and retrieved a can of milk from the fridge. He downed half of it in one go.

"Ready for tomorrow, Jake?"

"As ready as I can be, not sure I really want to show my face though, even after all this time, we're not exactly popular down at Enforcer Headquarters."

"Roger that, buddy."

"Aaaaaaaand… bingo!" the tools clattered to the counter top.

"Done?"

"Done."

Jake followed his partner into the kitchen and picked a second can from the fridge, taking a few quick gulps before talking.

"It's been a rough few weeks, huh Chance?"

"Yeah, feel like I need to hit the sack for a whole week."

Jake finished his can.

"Well, now that we're done with all those enforcer trucks, I can spend a bit of time on the jet."

Chance immediately perked up at the mention of the Turbokat.

"Can it fly at the moment?" he asked.

"Probably...possibly. Engines and turbines are going to need an overhaul before we push it much past mach one, and I suspect the control surfaces need some work. Don't even get me started about the electronics…"

"Hey buddy, no rush, but should be ready, you know, just in case Callie…"

"I know Chance."

Jake, however, wasn't sure that Chance really understood the situation. Yes, the jet could be brought back to its former glory with a bit of work, but a part of him felt that it might never fly again. It was seeming increasingly likely that Megakat City might never need the SWAT Kats again.

"I'm going to catch a bit of TV," continued Jake, "probably turn in early, big day tomorrow."

"Ten-four."

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
Big chapter coming up, might take me a few extra days to get it out, but things are about to get real!

Please read, review and comment, I've got a good number of hits but I'm really hankering for some feedback! I still feel like my writing isn't up to scratch, and some criticism, positive or negative, would be greatly appreciated.

A few notes regarding this chapter:

I mentioned the "Enforcer Enabling Act". The Enabling Act of 1933 was an act of the German Government that granted the Chancellor (Hitler) the power to enact laws and legislation without involving the Reichstag (German Parliament), in effect creating a dictatorship, and of course, we all know what that led to. Now, I'm not comparing the Enforcers to the Nazis, but they do seem to be exceptionally militarised for a police force, so I was going for a bit of an authoritarian feel, and what better way to do that than to make a reference to history's most notorious bad guys?

Secondly, I did mention that Felina's first actions as a lieutenant were the events of "A Bright and Shiny Future", even though the episode "Mutation City" was the first episode featuring her character. This is just a stylistic choice; given the tenuous link between most episodes, I think I can get away with that little anachronism.


	6. Chapter 5 - Memories and Malaise

*BZZZZZZZZZZT*

This should have been an easy day.

*BZZZZZZZZZZT*

Well, perhaps not easy, but at least the midday-to-eight shift block was more agreeable that most; waking up at ten in the morning and beating both the morning and even rush. Today, however, wasn't the midday-to-eight shift.

*BZZZZZZZZZZT*

"Alright, alright, I'm awake!"

Felina yelled at her alarm clock before slamming her paw down, silencing the incessant buzzing. Groggily, she propped herself up against the head of the bed and looked across to her bedside table.

" _Five am, sun's not even up yet._ "

Not all that long ago, waking up at this hour was the norm, either for an early morning patrol or to hit the gym. Her new rank, however, allowed her a little more agency when it came to picking her working hours, and she had been taking full advantage of it.

" _Perhaps I'm going soft?_ " she thought, shifting her gaze to the window.

The streets were still empty, save for the occasional dump truck or taxi. Most kats wouldn't be starting their morning commute for another hour, and the rush wouldn't begin in earnest for at least two. The prospect of going for a jog tempted her.

Not today, however. Today was her big day.

" _Alright, Felina, time to get your tail into gear._ "

The she-kat threw the covers back and lifted her legs to a near vertical position. With a single, motion, she swung them down and over the edge of the bed, springing cleanly to her feet. Clad in nothing but a black thong, the cold air stung at her fur, causing her to shiver slightly.

She padded over to the thermostat and gave it the same treatment as the alarm clock.

" _Cruddy ducted heating, why can't they just let me have a gas heater?_ "

She already knew the answer; budget constraints, fire hazards, and plain old bureaucratic regulations. Frustrating, to be sure, but with the weather slowly warming, this would be a problem to revisit in eight months time.

Stretching a little, she walked out of the bedroom and through the her open-plan living room to the attached kitchen. A quick inspection of the fridge told her that her breakfast would either be cold pizza or a rather boring cheese sandwich.

Or beer.

Truth be told, her recent late-start, late-finish shift roster had had some downsides, among which had been the rapid degradation of her diet. Despite the opportunity to sleep in, arrive back at her quarters at eight thirty, sometimes even as late as nine in the evening, left her feeling rather tired, and absolutely not in the mood to prepare herself a proper meal. This, combined with the fact that quality of the food offered by the officer's mess at such an hour left more than little to be desired, more often than not meant a visit to the local pizzeria.

Five nights in a row was a little excessive, however.

" _I guess beggars can't be choosers._ " she thought, putting a few slices onto a plate and into her microwave oven before flicking the coffee maker on.

In spite of all this, she had managed to maintain her figure. Recent eating habits aside, her habitual exercise regime had kept her body trim and toned.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Felina glanced about her appartment. Enforcer tenancy regulations stipulated that residents were to keep their living quarters clean and presentable at all times. Upon arrival, she had been told in no uncertain terms by the building manager that an apartment would be considered "clean and presentable" if she would be comfortable having the Mayor over.

In theory, at least.

In practice, the officer's residency building rarely received inspections; they were given an almost free run of the place. As long as no-one could smell the mess, a blind eye would be turned to the official rules. Out of sight, out of mind it seemed.

Felina doubted she would have lasted more than a week had the case been otherwise.

Her quarters were nothing short of a disaster. A myriad of sweatpants, tank tops of assorted underwear littered the floor and most available pieces of furniture, if they weren't covered in various empty drink cans or take-out containers. Ample application of air freshener had kept it livable, but the time was rapidly approaching where, like it or not, Felina would have to clean up.

" _This afternoon, if the service doesn't take too long._ " she thought, casually flicking an errant sock onto the sofa.

The coffee maker started to hiss. The she-kat poured herself a mug and leaned back against the counter. The black liquid was cheap and nasty, yet strong enough to do its job, and she downed her mug in a few quick gulps. As bad as it was, it was better than paying three dollars or more for a cup at some free-trade cafe. If she needed to she could always overload it with cream and sugar.

*ding*

Felina didn't bother to sit down to eat her breakfast, choosing instead to simply stand over her sink, absent mindedly chewing away. She suspected that this wasn't the first time she had reheated this pizza; it was starting to take on a distinctly rubbery texture. After a few more bites the empty plate clattered into the sink and she made her way to the bathroom.

Despite what the appearance of her quarters might suggest, she went out of her way to keep her uniforms clean and presentable. Her formal dress uniform was no exception; she'd sent it in earlier in the week to be professionally clean and pressed, and it hung neatly on the back of her bathroom door, collar starched and epaulettes expertly pinned in place. As her instructor had insisted all those years ago in the academy; the uniform was the cornerstone of the Enforcers. She was certain the same rhetoric had been drilled into the recruits of the old militaries during the pre-war years.

" _Mmmmmmm…_ "

She took quite a bit longer in the shower than usual; rigourously shampooing her fur and clipping her nails down. Despite the early wake-up, it was a nice change; such was the premium that she put on her sleep-ins that she rarely had more than ten minutes to wash up. After twenty minutes, her morning coffee having well and truly kicked in, she stepped out of the shower. She flicked the fur drier on and waited a few moments for it to warm up.

Her doorbell rang.

" _Ah crud._ "

Felina froze. Either she was somehow late or, infinitely more embarrassingly, her uncle had sent someone to collect her. Her fur still dripping wet, she wrapped a towel around her midriff and made for the door, thumbing the talk button on the communications console in the entranceway.

"Yeah?" She did little to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"Fel Fel."

Abigail's face looked directly into the camera positioned above her door. Despite the angle, and the fact that the rookie's height meant she had to crane her neck significantly, Felina could see that she wasn't in her usual cheerful and bubbly mood.

"Abby? What are you doing here, aren't you on shift?"

Abby shifted nervously.

"Well, um...Fel...Captain Feral, I was wondering… uh, can I come in?"

This was perhaps the second or third occasion in all the time that Felina had known Abigail that she'd addressed her by rank. She hit the unlock button and the door hissed open.

"Thanks Fel I...woah, sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Felina dismissed her apology with a wave of her paw, "It's alright Abby, what's up?"

Abby walked past Felina and stood behind her sofa, seemingly oblivious to the vast mess. With her back turned, she nervously started talking about.

"Um, Captain Feral, could I come to the service with you today?"

Felina was taken aback.

"Well, sure, Abby, but didn't you get an exception? You're still on night shift, aren't you tired?"

"I know," came the reply, "but I want to go, I just… I just don't think I can go by myself. Please, Fel."

Something was up here, Abby wasn't acting herself.

"Abby," continued Felina, "is something wrong?"

Abby turned to face Felina, her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, Fel, I tried to keep it to myself, I really did. I just... well, he…"

"Hang on. Abby, are you saying, is this about Vincent D'Angelo?"

Abby shook her head.

"Artie Ross?"

A nod.

"Oh geez, Abby, why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't, you know the regulations regarding this sort of thing."

"Wait, were you an Artie…"

She quickly cut him off.

"No, no, not like that, he's just a good friend."

A pause.

"Ok, ok, we went on a few dates, but that's it, I swear!"

Felina was dumbstruck. All of her smiles, her friendly nature had been forced these past few weeks. The night they had gone out, she had casually chatted at the bar, danced along with everyone else, acted as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"Abby, abby, it's ok. Look, we'll go to the service, and then we'll stop by Megakat Civic on the way back, alright? Have you visited him yet?"

Abby nodded again.

"Well there you go, nothing to get upset about! I'm sure he'd love for you to come and visit, can't be too exciting holed up in a hospital."

She forced out a smile.

"Ok, sounds good, Fel. You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

"Bah, you know me, following regulations was never my strong suit."

Abby's smile become slightly more genuine.

"That's my Fel Fel…"

"Ok, Rookie Sharpe, wait for me in the basement I uh, need to put some clothes on."

###### ###### ######

Some distance across town, parked in an alley, Marco sat patiently in his pickup, hands on the wheel. The stress of the past forty eight hours had meant he hadn't slept a wink the previous night, and was struggling to maintain his alertness. However, his job today was simple, and even in his current state, the grey furred kat was confident he could pull it off.

Simple enough that even the goons he had hired should have no problems doing their part.

This time there would be no need to tie up loose ends, no need to clean up afterwards. It appeared that his new employer wanted to make a big statement and, once Marco started the ball rolling, the more chaotic things became, the better. All he had to worry about was getting in and out quickly and doing his part. Simple.

A horn blast from behind startled him.

Instinctively he reached for his pistol, turning about in his seat to look out the back of the pickup.

" _Just a dump truck, nothing to get your fur all knotted up over._ "

Another horn blast.

Marco released the grip on his pistol, no sense in getting messy just yet. Still, perhaps this was a good opportunity to amp himself up, get in the mood. He opened the door and stepped out into the alley.

The driver of the dump truck, a fat, aging kat with matted brown fur, appeared to get the hint and killed his engine.

"Yo, pal, move it!"

"Hey, pal," Marco spat the second word out in as sarcastic a tone as he could manage, "why don't you just turn that junker around and go back the way you came?"

Senseless antagonism; good for riling up lowlifes.

"Oh yeah, you gunna make me?"

"Maybe I will!"

The dump truck driver opened his door and stepped out to confront Marco. Certainly, he him beaten in terms of weight, but Marco stood taller, and would bet his life savings on being faster.

"Well come on, old timer, either front up or back down before I smack your brains in!"

Slight hesitation.

"Just move it ya damn fool!"

Marco lunged forward and delivered a punch straight to the older kat's jaw. Stumbling backwards, he barely had time to shoot his paws up to his face before Marco stepped deftly to the side and drove his elbow directly into his temple. Without a sound, the fat kat flopped to the floor, out cold.

Marco could feel the adrenaline surge.

" _Ah yeah, that's it._ "

Grinning, with his tiredness completely erased, Marco jumped back into his pickup and started the engine.

" _Time to work._ "

###### ###### ######

"How do I look, buddy?"

"Like someone who's never worn a suit before."

"Funny, you should send that joke into Litterbin."

Jake adjusted his tie. As much as he made fun of Chance's suit, his wasn't much better. Certainly, it might still fit him, but the fit was far from perfect. His collar was loose about his neck, and the jacket itself hung limply from his shoulders. He knew that he'd lost a bit of weight over their two years of inactivity, but it wasn't until he had to cut a new hole in his belt that the reality of it hit him.

The whole affair had him looking like an unemployed lawyer.

Still, better than Chance who, despite the hire suit fitting correctly, had a certain look of "the defendant" about him. The larger kat simply didn't wear formal clothing well.

"Hey Chance," he said, "think we could get away with our old parade uniforms?"

"Ha, no way I'm getting into that thing again."

While the pair had kept their enforcer uniforms, wearing clothing that hadn't been touched, let alone cleaned, for the better part of a decade might be seen as slightly disrespectful. Additionally, despite the technicality of still being enforcers, only active duty officers were permitted to wear the enforcer dress uniform to official events. Civilian employees and non-standard ranks were required to wear formal clothing, as well as being obliged to sit with members of the general public.

A few final adjustments and Jake had his suit looking about as good as he could manage.

"Ready to roll, partner?"

Chance gave his own tie one final check, "ready as I'll ever be, can't wait to get out of this getup."

"You and me both."

###### ###### ######

The orange furred kat carefully placed his briefcase on the tabletop and sat down. To anyone who spared him more that a cursory glance, he would appear like any one of the multitude of kats making their morning commute into work. Sporting neatly presented, yet casual business attire, he sat and waited patiently. He had plenty of time.

"Can I get some chocolate powder on top?"

"Sure thing!"

He had on many, more legitimate an occasion, made his way to this part of town to conduct business, and he often found himself stopping here for a coffee, or perhaps a sandwich. Not so often that the staff would recognise him, although there was always the danger of a particularly perceptive enforcer or member of the public.

He found himself rather calm, calmer even than he had been in the days and weeks leading up to this. So many times he had gone over it in his head, playing out every possibility, every potential pitfall or hurdle, and every time he'd come to the same conclusion; walk in, walk out and everything will be fine.

Still, he had to consciously refrain from glancing at his briefcase every five seconds.

After today, there would be no turning back. That circumstances that had led him to this point were complicated, but luck had smiled upon him when it mattered most and so here he was, about to show Megakat City something it had never seen before. Something new. Something terrible.

His cellphone buzzed in his pocket.

That would be his "contact"; strange kat, but always on the money when it came to providing him with information. Rather unusual for his line of work, it had been his contact who had initiated communication with him. The very fact that he had been able to track him down to a completely unassuming warehousing business suggested that whoever this was, they meant business. From there, however, it had been smooth sailing. Any time he needed something, seemingly without even asking, it was provided. When quizzed as to how much they were expecting in the way of compensation for their efforts, they had assured him that he wouldn't have been contacted in the first place had he not been able to cover their expensive. At the very least, they'd had a look at his bank account.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

Today it would appear that his contact was on the ball as usual. All the information he would need; floor number, room number, name and even a description had been provided.

" _Like clockwork._ "

At the back of his mind, however, was the constant thought that whoever this was wanted him for something. Perhaps it was a game, perhaps they were going to ask a favour later, or perhaps they simply had unique investigative talents and were seeking better pay than the Enforcers could offer. No matter, despite their seemingly all-knowing nature, he was confident that his underlings could take care of business should their relationship sour; his most recent hire certainly showed promise.

"Skinny latte for Tugger, chocolate powder on top!"

"Yeah, that's me!"

###### ###### ######

Commander Feral had entered the Enforcer Function Center through a rear door facing onto an alley. No doubt there would be a few news crews around the front of the building, hunting for a comment or even just a decent shot of a city official, even if the Mayor himself would not be attending. It had been some months since the Enforcers had made this big a show of anything, and it was bound to generate at least some interest.

"Sir!"

The guard posted to the door snapped a salute which Feral returned automatically.

"Carry on."

For the first time in many years, this wouldn't be his show. Over the course of his career he had overseen far too many memorial services; it was time for someone else to bear that burden. He did have some reservations about handing the job to his niece. Favouritism aside, while he was confident in her abilities as an enforcer, her abilities as an administrator were yet to be seen. Felina would soon discover that the higher up the chain you went, the less actual police work you did.

At the very least, he was glad to have this one small respite.

By the time he had taken his seat, the hall was about half full. By his reckoning, they would have the better part of one thousand kats in attendance today, the largest service they'd held in years.

All part of the new-look, kind and caring Enforcers.

His time at the helm of the cities law enforcement was drawing to an end. The old, strong-headed methods that were once required now seemed unnecessary, even brutal. Going forward, the Enforcers would need to be seen providing a wider range of services to the citizens of Megakat City. Rumours of legislative action on the part of the Civic Security Authority aside, they would need a more creative approach in the years to come. Creative wasn't really in Feral's vocabulary.

"Good Morning, Commander."

"Ah, Miss Briggs, glad you could make it."

###### ###### ######

"C'mon buddy, we'll be late!"

"So?"

Jake rolled his eyes. The pair jogged up the steps of the Megakat Metro, weaving in and out of the morning commuters. After leaving the salvage yard some two hours prior, they had discovered that the traffic was even worse than usual. Rather than risk getting held up driving into the center of the city, they had parked their tow truck at one of the outlying subway stations and travelled the last quarter of their journey on public transport.

And now they were pressed for time.

"Hey Jake, slow down, we'll get there."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one who gets the call every time we mess up!"

An unfortunate side effect of "Clawson" coming before "Furlong" alphabetically; Jake would often have to be the mouthpiece when dealing with their "superiors".

The two kats bounded up the final few steps and onto the streets of downtown Megakat City. Enforcers Headquarters and the adjoining function center were only a few blocks away, but they'd still have to be quick. Jake gave partner a "hurry up" gesture and the pair set off at a brisk walk.

"It's been awhile since we've been down here." said Chance.

"No kidding, although last time we were locked up in an enforcer jail."

"Hey, hey, technically that wasn't this Megakat City."

"That was some funky stuff."

Jake didn't need reminding of their extra-dimensional escapades. Of all their adventures, his malfunctioning dimensional radar would have to be among the weirdest. To this day it escaped him just how his invention had managed to do that.

Dodging traffic they crossed an intersection without waiting for the lights. A few taxis blasted their horns. The pair jogged the remaining few blocks without talking. Were it not for the unseasonably cold weather, this would have them sweating by the time they reached the function center. As they crossed the final intersection and onto the same block as their destination, they slowed to a walk.

"See, what did I tell you," quipped Chance, "no need to rush!"

A large congregation of kats was gathered on the sidewalk outside and steps leading up to the entrance to the Enforcer Function Center. Mostly uniformed officers, but with the occasional civilian in their midst, talking away or shaking paws. Several enforcers in patrol uniforms were directing kats through the entrance.

"Not really our scene, buddy." said Jake, checking his watch. "Let's just get inside."

The two kats made their way through the crowd and up the steps towards the large entrance doors. Not unexpectedly, they were stopped by the door guard.

"Sirs, I'm sorry, the function center is closed for an official Enforcer event."

Jake braced for Chance's retort.

"Duh," came the inevitable, "that's why we're here."

The enforcer took a step forward.

"Uh, sorry about my partner." said Jake, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm Specialist Clawson and this is Specialist Furlong, we were required to attend."

The enforcer's stoic disposition immediate returned. "Ok then, you'll be seated at the very back, left hand side, take the corridor on the left as you enter."

"Thanks."

"I'd hurry, non-standard ranks should have been here fifteen minutes ago."

Without further conversation they entered. The lobby was sparsely furnished, with only a few small benches along the walls. Standing prominently in the center was a large picture of Vincent D'Angelo, surrounded by a rather impressive flower arrangement. To the side was a large open book where kats could write a message of sympathy or support, presumably for Vincent's family. Judging by the gaudy gold trim and velvet tablecloth, it would seem that the Enforcers had gone all out with this service.

The two kats hurried through the lobby, rounding the corner and into the corridor as instructed.

"Alright buddy, just around...oof!"

Jake ran headlong into a she-kat, sending both of the sprawling across the floor.

"Ah, sorry about that I…"

He saw who it was.

"Lieutenant Feral?!" they said in unison.

Felina picked herself up off the ground. "Actually it's Captain Feral now… do I know you?"

Jake felt his heart skip a beat. T-Bone and Razor knew Felina Feral well, but him and Chance, they'd never met her. She'd made a number of brief TV appearances during a news bulletin, but remembering a name from that seemed a bit of a stretch.

"I uh, well, no… but you see, um…" Jake was stammering.

"My partner watches a lot of news, he saw you on TV during that whole Megakat Metallurgical thing."

" _Nice catch, Chance._ "

Felina eyed the two toms up and down, straightening out her dress uniform as she did so.

"Uh huh, and you two are?"

"Oh," replied Jake, "Specialists Clawson and Furlong."

"Specialists? Aren't you forgetting something?"

They stared dumbstruck for a moment before it hit them.

"Ma'am, our apologies!" they quipped, snapping off their best attempt at a salute.

Felina raised her eyebrows, looking suitable unimpressed. "Carry on, specialists."

"Ma'am."

Felina continued on and disappeared around the corner. Chance turned to Jake.

"Captain?" he asked.

Jake simply shrugged.

"Anyway," he continued, "that was a close one. What were you planning to do if she recognised us?"

"I'm not sure. Run? I doubt she would have, it's been a while and I'm sure an enforcer captain has better things to worry about than theorising that two lowlife specialists moonlight as vigilantes."

"Ten-four, buddy. Let's just find somewhere to sit and get this over with."

###### ###### ######

Marco pulled up outside the Megakat City Central Electrical Substation. The building was brand new, having had its roof torn off some years ago by the megalomaniac Dark Kat. The reconstruction had allowed for a large majority of the electrical distribution systems to be automated, and the grey furred kat didn't expect any more than two or three workers to be present.

He reached down and checked his pistol. He'd turned it down somewhat since its last use; it would now be good for nine or ten shots, while still packing a far greater punch than the standard issue enforcer sidearm.

" _Going to need a new lens set soon._ "

Tucking the weapon into his shoulder holster and exiting his vehicle, Marco made his way across the road and towards the substation. There was no security to speak of, save for a lone camera sitting above the doorway to the control room. As it wasn't on a motorised mount, Marco simply had to walk through the parking lot of the adjacent building and jump the fence from the side.

High voltage wires hummed above his head as he quickly made his way between the large transformers. Residual charge in the air prickled at his fur, causing a few of the longer strands to stand on end. After a few brief moments he slid up next to the door, still out of sight of the camera. Reaching up, he yanked the power cable from the security device. It was highly unlikely that this was a monitored feed; it wouldn't be until much later that the gap in footage would be discovered.

At least, that's what Marco counted on.

" _Showtime._ "

As casually as he could manage, Marco simply knocked on the door to the control room. The sound of a chair scraping across concrete came from inside, followed by footsteps. Moments later, the door opened and a middle-age kat stuck his head through.

"Yes?"

In the same motion, Marco placed his left paw on the kat's shoulder while drawing his pistol with the right. Pushing firmly, he shoved the kat backwards through the door and brought the weapon up, placing the barrel under his chin.

The kat's eyes went wide.

"What...I…"

Marco cut him off. "In, go, now."

Once the two were inside, Marco kicked the door shut behind him. Turning the kat around, he frisked him up and down, all the while keeping the weapon trained upon him. He would have been surprised if this civil worker had been armed, but that was a surprise he couldn't afford. Satisfied, he shoved him forward again and into the main control room.

A she-kat seated at a control console swiveled about in her chair.

"Hey Danny who was…"

She froze up.

Marco kicked the kat in the back of the leg, forcing him to his knees. With the weapon trained at back of his hostage's skull, he motioned towards the console with his free paw.

"Ok, listen up you two." he started. "I'm sure that you've had the standard civil service safety induction, you know what to do in this sort of situation. Do what I say and neither of you get hurt. Nod if you understand."

They both nodded.

"Excellent." he continued. "Now, you there, how long does it take for the power to come back after an emergency shutdown?"

"No," the she-kat began, "we can't just…"

"HOW LONG?!"

"Fif..fifteen minutes." she replied, her voice trembling.

"Good. Shut it down, please."

No reason to be impolite. She typed away at her console for a few moments before turning to face Marco.

"I...ok, it's done. It… it will take a few seconds to go through."

A few lines of text flashed across the screen before a large red prompt appeared.

Confirm Cancel

"What now?"

"Nothing, nothing… I just need to confirm the command and the emergency shutdown will…"

"Do it."

"Please," the kat in front of Marco said, "it'll damage the whole grid, you can't just…"

Marco moved his pistol half a foot to the right and pulled the trigger. The shot blasted past his hostage's ear, burning off the whiskers on the right side of his face and slamming into the ground at his feet.

"Remember what I said, do what I say and we'll all walk away nice and easy."

She turned back to the console and jabbed her finger down on the enter key. Several seconds later the clunking of heavy circuit breakers opening could be heard. The screens of the control consoles flickered briefly before dying, followed by the lights, casting the trio into darkness.

"Good work, both of you. Normally I'd ask you to hand over your cell phones, can't have you calling the Enforcers on me as soon as a step out that door, but you won't be making any calls with the power cut to the cell towers."

Marco placed his boot in the small of the kat's back and kicked forward, forcing him to a prone position. He took a few steps towards the still-shaking she-kat.

"Don't worry, babe, it's just adrenaline, it will be gone in a few minutes. Wait five and then head outside, I'll be long gone."

He moved towards the door.

"You two should take a few days off, you've earned it."

A little theatrical, but it wasn't doing any harm. Without a further word, Marco pushed the door open and walked back out into the substation yard. Already he could both see and hear the effects of the blackout. Horns sounded in the streets as vehicles jammed up intersections, kats poked their heads from windows, shop owners stood outside their stores, wondering what had happened. Such a small thing, a few keystrokes and here they were, the largest city on the west coast brought to a standstill.

Marco flung the door of his pickup open and jumped inside. The remainder of his day would be spent pretending to be just another kat caught up in all the chaos. He wasn't expecting a swift getaway, but he banked on the Enforcers having better things to do.

Starting the engine, he slammed his paw down on the horn a few times before barging out into the traffic.

###### ###### ######

"Our organisation is based on rank. We display it on our uniforms, we use it when we greet each other, it underpins every aspect of enforcer life. Rank is something we respect. Rank is gained through service, through dedication to the city and its kats, through hard work. Today, we put all of that aside. When an enforcers makes the ultimate sacrifice, rank doesn't matter at all; rookie, sergeant or captain, we mourn their loss all the same. Vincent D'Angelo was an enforcer who epitomised these qualities we reward with rank; dedicated and hardworking, to the city and to his fellow enforcers. So often, it is those without rank who are the hardest working among us, who patrol our streets to make them safe, who fight against those who would harm us, and for whom the price can be all too real. Vincent was taken from us before we could rightfully recognise his service. Today we are here to make amends for that oversight."

Chance shifted in his seat as Felina droned on.

"Hey Jake, I don't think I've ever heard Leu...Captain Feral sound so… down?"

"Probably roped into doing this by her uncle."

The rest of the speech played out as such speeches usually do, heaping praise upon the deceased and expounding organisational values such as loyalty and honour. It was fairly obvious that Felina was out of her element; public speaking didn't suit her, and she had to pause several times to regain her composure. The typical array of dignitaries sat to her immediate left, comprised of members of the city council along with the deputy mayor and several high ranking enforcers. Notably absent was Manx.

The majority of the gathered kats were rank-and-file enforcers, many of whom were attending their first service. In the past, memorial services had been frequent, yet small, with attendance rarely above one hundred; strictly limited to friend, family and close associates.

"Hey buddy, check out Feral." said Chance. "I don't think I've ever seen someone so pleased to attend one of these gigs."

"Well, he's not the one giving the speech for once, probably a nice chance for him."

A kat in front of them caught sound of their hushed conversation, turning around with a glare in his eye. Chance lowered his voice further.

"Hey buddy, if I ever kick the bucket, make sure they don't have one of these for me, can't stand the stuffiness of the whole thing."

"What's going to happen to you, squashed by a pile of junk?"

Chance grinned, "Maybe."

Jake very much doubted that such a service would be held for either of them should the worst happened. While the rhetoric was that neither position nor rank mattered, the reality was somewhat different, the most they could expect would be a nicely worded letter to their next of kin.

Felina continued for ten or so minutes before finishing. A small smattering of applause echoed about the room.

"I'd like to invite Deputy Major Briggs to say a few words on behalf of the Mayor's Office."

The ever-popular Calico Briggs stood up from her seat and walked to the lectern. The growing murmuring about the hall died off almost instantly.

"Commander Ulysses Feral, civil dignitaries, valued officers, friends, family and associated of the Megakat City Enforcers, it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today. Out city wouldn't be the…"

The lights went out, plunging the hall into darkness.

###### ###### ######

"Alright boys let's rock 'n ruin!"

Felix van Dekker sprung from the open door of the van. Behind him, half a dozen kats followed him, clad in balaclavas and wielding a variety of improvised weapons. Felix himself clutched a baseball bat in his right paw and in his left, a pair of molotov cocktails. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he took off at a sprint, rapidly crossing the road in front of the Enforcer Function Center.

"Hey AB, gas!"

Felix pulled the gas mask he had picked up for eighty dollars the previous afternoon over his face. A large, burly kat waddled forward, swinging a large bundle of CS gas canisters above his head. With a grunt, he hurled them forward, up and over the row of parked enforcer cruisers and onto the steps of the function center. The canisters burst open upon contact with the steps, the noxious gas gushing forth. Several civilians screamed.

"Have at 'em!"

In this short time that had elapsed, the few enforcers stationed at the entrance to the function center had failed to move into any sort of defensive position. With the power out, their attention had been focused inwards. The sudden explosion of tear gas had only compounded their disorientation.

As he ran the last few yards to the sidewalk, Felix tucked the baseball bat under his arm, using his now free paw to produce a lighter from his pocket. Without breaking his step, he light the rags hanging from the two firebombs. With his bat, he smashed the windows of two parked cruisers and threw them inside. To his right, several of his associates were doing the same.

"Enforcers, drop your weapons!"

By the time the shout came from the guards, seven cruisers were already ablaze. Felix charged up the steps, now gripping the bat in both paws. Seconds later, he came across the first enforcer, coughing and spluttering from the gas.

"Stop…."

The bat crashed into the enforcer's ribs, causing him to double over in shock and drop his laser rifle, letting off a shot as it hit the ground. Felix raised the bat above his head and followed up with a vicious blow to the head, knocking his victim out cold.

"Hurry up lads, thirty seconds!"

This was turning out easier than he expected. The job had been given to him by an old contact; someone who hadn't done work for the mob like Felix had, but with whom they had crossed paths a number of times. Even if the payment was meagre, the chance to take the fight to The Enforcers was worth it.

With the guards dispatched, Felix waved to the van. The rear doors opened and two kats climbed out, carrying a large drum. Ten seconds later and they too had climbed the steps and were at the entrance to the function center.

"Good work, I've got the rest, get back in the van!"

Felix kicked the drum through the entrance and into the foyer. Leaning down, he picked up the discarded laser rifle and took aim.

A dark orange cat in a suit rounded the corner at the opposite end of the foyer and took aim with a weapon.

" _Shit._ "

Felix threw himself to the ground as the stun beam shot overhead, catching one of his fleeing compatriots in the back. He fell to the ground, convulsing as his nervous systems was overloaded by the energy. As the stun gun recharged, Felix brought the rifle up to his eye, leveled it upon the drum and fired.

The beam punched through the steel skin and ignited some forty gallons of gasoline in a gigantic fireball that rapidly filled the entire foyer. Flames poured out the front doors and up the facade of the building, gushing through several open windows and igniting fires.

Seizing the opportunity, Felix jumped to his feet and took off down the steps. A voice bellowed after him.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Several shots rang out through smoke and flames, missing him by a wide margin. As he closed distance to the van, AB called out for him.

"Let's go, let's go!"

Felix jumped inside. "Gun it!"

The driver, a gangly kat with matted black fur and a cigarette perpetually dangling from his mouth, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. As the van roared away, he glanced up at the rear-view mirror.

"Hey boss, what about Jay?"

"Forget him, idiot got himself shot in the back."

Several tense seconds passed before the van erupted into laughter.

###### ###### ######

The orange furred kat known as Tugger picked his way through the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It had only been a few minutes, yet already the entire downtown area was in gridlock. It would very likely be several hours before it would clear, even after the power was restored.

Still clutching his briefcase tightly, he rounded the final corner came within sight of his destination; Megakat Civic Hospital. Several orderlies were standing outside the main entrance, directing visitors away, assuring them that the hospital had backup generators and that their loved ones would be fine. Tugger approached the most senior looking of the group.

"Hi, I've been sent to deliver a blood transfusion to a patient,' he said, holding up the briefcase, "the regular delivery van is caught up in all this traffic."

The orderly eyed him suspiciously, "do you have the consignment notice?"

Tugger grinned sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, we normally print it out from the van, but all our systems are down so we can't get it. Please, it's very important that I get through. I know my way around and I'll be gone in ten minutes."

The orderly looked somewhat exasperated, but clearly had bigger problems to attend to.

"Fine," he replied, "just don't mention that I let you in."

"Thanks a bunch!"

###### ###### ######

Jake and Chance sprung from their seat as soon as they heard the crack of a laser rifle discharge. Across the far side of the hall they could see Feral spring into action, barking some orders at his niece before sprinting towards the foyer. The kats seated immediately around the them were mostly civilians, and looked generally dumbfounded at the pair's sudden action. Jake was first into the corridor, several seconds ahead of the slower Chance.

"C'mon bud, let's see what the ruckus is all about."

"Right behind you, Ace!"

One of the building's regular security personnel had tripped and fallen in the corridor in an attempt to rush towards whatever was going on outside. Without thinking, Jake reached down and scooped up his dropped stun gun, thumbing the activation switch and charging the weapon.

He dashed into the lobby and brought the gun up, leveling it on a masked figure standing just outside the entrance, pointing an enforcer issue laser rifle at a large drum slowly rolling through the foyer. Without a second thought he pulled the trigger. The blue beam lanced out with a hiss of ionising air. His aim was high and the shot flew over his target's head, by sheer luck striking another figure in the back as he retreated down the front steps. The weapon charged for a second shot.

The masked figured fired the rifle, detonating the drum and sending a wave of flame rushing towards Jake. As he made to jump, he was violently tugged from the side and pulled back into the corridor.

"Nice timing, buddy."

"You missed." quipped Chance with a slight grin.

Jake turned around and surveyed the inferno that the foyer had become. "No way through… fire escape."

Leading the way, Chance shouldered open the fire escape door and burst out into the narrow alley adjoining the building. The pungent odour of tear gas filled their noses.

"Crud, what's going on?" asked Chance, coughing a few times.

"Your guess is as good as mine, but we've gotta catch that kat!"

Holding their jackets to their noses, they dashed down the alley towards the street. Emerging onto the sidewalk, they were greeted by the sight of the entire bottom half of the building's frontal facing, along with half a dozen patrol cars, completely engulfed in flame. Through the inferno, they could just make out the outline of a van speeding away.

"There!"

Jake and Chance ran for the only intact cruiser, shielding their faces from the intense heat with their jackets.

"Chance, that's…."

"I know, I know!"

Jake cringed as Chance flung the door of Commander Feral's personal cruiser open. Seemingly, the attackers had somehow missed the darker blue vehicle, despite it being parked directly in front of the main entrance. Chance reached under the dashboard and went about hot wiring the vehicle.

"Hurry up!"

Jake urged his partner on as he climbed into the front passenger seat.

"What's going on out… YOU TWO!?"

Jake poked his head out of the window and looked back towards the building. Bounding down the steps, weapon drawn and uniform charred by the flames, was Commander Feral, followed closely by his niece. For a moment it seemed as if he forget the fire that raged around him; seeing as the two kats he personally blamed for the destruction of the previous enforcer headquarters were now stealing his car. Before he could utter another word, Chance jumped the correct connection and the engine roared to life.

"Don't sweat it, Commander, our tag!"

With a parting quip, the car shot forward and after the van.

"Just in time, buddy, I think Feral was about to arrest us." said Jake.

"No kidding. Would be just like him, too."

The cruiser's tires squealed as Chance threw the vehicle around a corner and pushed the speed above sixty. The van was several blocks ahead, violently weaving in and out of traffic in its wild getaway attempt.

"Jake, we got any firepower back there?"

Jake leaned back and felt around the back seat with his left paw. Nothing. There might have been something harder hitting in the trunk; he doubted Feral would be allow himself to be caught unawares, but barring some daredevil stunt, that wasn't an option.

"Nothing, just the stunner." replied Jake.

"Crud!"

The cruiser rapidly closed the distance between them and the van. Before too long, they were bumper to bumper, still pinballing across the road.

"See if the stunner will do anything!" yelled Chance.

Jake planted his feet firmly in the footwell and leaned out the window. The rapid movements of his target made the shot difficult. His first shot was harmlessly absorbed by the van's rear doors.

"No good, not enough power."

"Try again hotshot!"

Leaning further out this time, Jake aimed for the tires and fired. The shot hit, but the current delivered by the stun weapon was simply too low to cause any real damage.

"Ah, nuts!" yelled Chance. "Hang on!"

The large kat dropped a gear and floored the gas pedal. The car lurched forward, hurtling towards the van. Jake braced himself.

"Woah, T-Bone!"

Chance grinned. A minor slip of the tongue, but perhaps an appropriate one. His heart raced; this is what he had been missing. This is what he had been longing for.

The cruiser smashed into the van, the speed difference above forty miles per hour, crumpling the front bumper and shattering the windscreen. The van lurched violently to the side before going into a spin, smoke billowing from the tires as it began to tip. Chance slammed his foot down on the brakes and swerved, mounting the curb in an attempt to avoid a second crash.

The van finished tipping and skidded some fifty yards on its side, spewing sparks and shards of metal, before slamming into a lamp post. Chance brought the cruiser under control, pulling up next to the overturned vehicle. Almost as soon as the van had stopped its movement, a group of shell shocked looking kats stumbled out. Jake kicked his door open and aimed the stun gun.

"Get 'em!"

Jake shot one of the stumbling kats square in the chest, dropping him to the ground. A red light lit up on the top of the gun's grip.

"Crud, out of juice!'

By now, the remaining five kats had regained their composure and were breaking off in all directions. Chance picked the nearest and charged, crossing the distance in three short seconds and slamming into the thug. The kat was lifted clean off the ground before being brought crashing down into the tarmac.

"Gotcha, creep!"

Jake rushed over and helped his partner pin down the struggling felon. With the excitement having died down, the pair could now hear the all too familiar whine of sirens. Realising his predicament, the kat under them stopped moving and similar lay still. Some thirty seconds later, a pair of cruisers screeched to a halt at the site of the wrecked vehicle, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

"What the devil is going on here?!"

The sound of a car door opening and the unmistakable voice of Commander Feral came from behind them. Flanked by his niece and two armed enforcers, his eyes flashed briefly over Jake, Chance and the stunned body before fixing upon the pinned kat.

"You two, move."

Paying the pair no attention, Feral reached down and yanked the kat to his feet. He stared menacingly at him for a few seconds before turning to one of his charges.

"Book 'em."

With that, Feral turned about and walked back towards his cruiser, surveying the damage it had suffered. Jake and Chance braced for what they suspected was about to begin.

"Good work."

Short and curt, but that was Feral. The praise surprised the two kats; Feral wasn't big on unorthodox tactics, but he wasn't above recognising results. Still, it seemed that anything more than the thanks he had just offered was beyond him.

"Felina."

"Sir?"

"Escort these two back to headquarters, get them debriefed."

"Yes sir."

Feral opened the door to his cruiser and started the still-functioning engine before driving off, leaving the patrol officers to take charge of the scene.

"Wow," started Chance, "I thought the Commander was going to have a fit."

"Alright, you two," said Felina, cutting him off, "let's go."

###### ###### ######

Artie lay in darkness. The hospital's backup generator only provided enough power for vital equipment and lighting in the intensive care wards. Patients without the need for round-the-clock care, such as himself, would simply have to endure.

"Julie?"

"Yes, Artie?"

He smiled as his nurse entered the darkened room, her form silhouetted against the emergency lighting in the hallway.

"Could you find out what is going on, the power has been out almost half an hour."

"I haven't been told much," she replied, "something about an emergency at the substation, I'll ask my boss."

"Thanks."

Julie ducked out of the doorway and back into the hall. Artie rolled over as best he could and gazed out his window. Traffic was moving slowly, with enforcers stationed at intersections to manage the chaos. The majority of businesses had shut up shop for the day, unable to process any sort of transactions for their customers.

Artie sighed; he couldn't even watch TV.

"Sir, I'm sorry, the hospital is closed to vis…"

Artie's ears perked up at the sound of Julie's voice being cut off by the tick-tick-tick of a taser, followed by the thump of a body hitting the floor.

" _Ah crud._ "

His first thought was that some hoods had broken into the hospital to steal drugs, using the confusion of the power outage as a cover.

The calm and collected footsteps making their way towards his door suggested otherwise.

"Mr Ross?" The voice was high pitched, almost nasally.

Artie didn't respond.

A figure stepped through the doorway, shorter than average and carrying a small briefcase.

"Please, Mr Ross, there is no need to be impolite."

Artie finally responded. "Who are you?"

The figure set the briefcase down at the foot of his bed, clicking the locks open and rummaging about inside.

"Now, Mr Ross, surely you recognise your old sergeant?"

Artie squinted, it was difficult to make his features out in the darkness. He guessed his fur was orange, with a tuft of blond hair sitting atop his head. The figure was smirking slightly, without showing any teeth, he swore that he…

"You."

"Yes, me. It's been a while, Artie."

"What are you doing here? Didn't they boot you off the force?"

The figure pulled a pair of latex gloves out and slipped them over his paws.

"They did." he responded, "As for what I'm doing here, well, I must say I was surprised when I learned that it was you who ended up in here."

"Wait, this was you? You did all this?"

The kat finished putting the gloves on.

"Not me, but it was my idea. Part of something bigger, you see, something I'm afraid you and that Vincent kat won't get to see."

Reaching once more into his briefcase, he pulled out what appeared to be a very old six-shooter, the sort of gun that the police might have used a couple of decades ago.

"You know, this slugger was given to me by my father." the kat continued, "He was an enforcer too, a real good one. He never made it to Commander."

The kat cocked the hammer took aim.

"Just like me."

Without another word, former Lieutenant Commander Steele shot Artie dead.

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
Sorry for the delay, I'm in the middle of moving house, so I've been pretty busy with packing and such.

So there it is, something finally happened! I'm planning for things to pick up a bit from here, so stay tuned. Longer chapter than usual, felt I should make up for the delay, plus I had a heap to get through.

As usual, please read and review, I really appreciate it!

AR


	7. Chapter 6 - Bits and Pieces

"Ok, ok, let's go over that part again."

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He and Chance had only been sitting in Felina Feral's office for some ten minutes, and had already given a brief recount of the events of the past hour. The captain hadn't shown much of a response to their explanation beyond routine questioning, and Jake couldn't tell if they were in for a chewing out or not.

"Uh, what part might that be, ma'am?"

Felina looked away from her monitor and narrowed her gaze upon the smaller of the two kats.

"You know, the part where you stole…"

"Borrowed." interrupted Chance.

A brief flash of annoyance.

"Ok, borrowed the commander's car and took off at breakneck speed."

"Well, ma'am," started Jake, "we didn't really have a lot of time to make a decision and…"

Chance interrupted again, "and we did what the kats you had on guard duty couldn't do and took three of the creeps down."

Felina shifted her eyes to Chance.

"Mmm-hmm, about that, seemed you two were up and running before anyone else even knew what was going on."

It was Chance's turn to get annoyed, "Captain, are you saying we had something to do with all of this?"

"No, it just seems a bit strange that two specialists were so quick off the mark."

"They're not pilots."

"Neither are you."

"Captain," said Jake, "I know this is all pretty crazy, but we just got lucky and happened to be seated right next to the door. Your uncle was up almost as quickly as we were."

As with the previous two times they had explained their actions to her, Felina didn't respond, instead typing away at her keyboard without so much as a raised eyebrow. An awkward silence hung over the trio, broken only by the clacking of keys and Chance's occasional impatient shuffling.

"I think that should about do it." said Felina after a few minutes, swiveling in her chair to once again face the two kats. "I don't think much will come of this, the Commander isn't going to lose his cool over a fender-bender, even if it was you two."

"Can we go?" asked Jake.

Felina made a point of turning off the screen in front of her before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the desk.

"Not just yet." she said. "I'm curious. So maybe you got lucky, I can buy that. Close to the door, fire in the lobby, who wouldn't go for the fire escape? But here we are, you've taken down three crims and stopped their getaway vehicle, something that a couple of hundred enlisted enforcers couldn't do."

"So?"

Felina rocked back on her chair.

"So, colour me impressed. I read your files, you've been away from active duty for a while now, but what you pulled back there, well, I'm not sure I know anyone who could have done the same. You can't tell me that you two have spent the last seven years just sorting through junk."

Jake's heart skipped a beat. He'd gone over the situation a thousand times; what they would do if they were ever found out. He'd considered every possibility; who, where, when, and how he and his partner would respond. Felina Feral had always been high on the list of kats who would be likely to find out, and his first thoughts were to plead with her to keep everything under wraps. Her knowledge of the identities of the SWAT Kats certainly didn't present them with the disaster that her uncle would.

Yet here he was, facing this exact situation, frozen, unable to speak.

"You haven't been doing any work on the side, have you? You know, work that might land you in trouble?"

"Work? I…."

The realisation suddenly hit Jake. So concerned had he been with the discovery of his and his partner's vigilante moonlighting that he'd forgotten that this was just a simple police debrief. The offhand comment suggesting that he and Chance were working for the Megakat City mob was, strangely, a welcome surprise; he almost felt like laughing.

"Yes?"

"Oh, sorry, Captain." said Jake, "It's a bit unusual, I know, but we've got a whole bunch of training equipment set up out at the salvage yard to uh, pass the time and stay in shape."

"I see.' replied Felina, "and I don't suppose this training equipment would include target practice at a vehicle moving at eighty miles an hour?"

"Well, no, but you can come out and see it if you don't believe us." he said, his tone slightly defensive.

She turned to Chance, "What about you? You seem pretty handy behind the wheel."

Chance simply shrugged. "I'm a mechanic, I know cars."

Felina continued staring at the pair for a few moments before rocking forward on her chair again, her expression one of half amusement, half suspicion. Certainly, unorthodox tactics were nothing new to her, but after what she imagined must have been an enthusiastic and energetic chase on the part of the two kats sitting before her, their responses to a simple debriefing had been surprisingly guarded. While the smaller of the two seemed naturally reserved, the larger one most definitely had a boastful streak; yet he had been rather calm, almost disinterested, throughout the procedure.

" _I don't suppose they really have any real reason to be particularly fond of The Enforcers._ " she thought.

It didn't, however, matter in the end. This was a simple exercise in report writing; the bulk of the work was yet to come. Felina was certain that she'd be spending the next few months breaking down what had happened at the memorial service piece by piece. Best get the easy part out of the way first.

"Alright," she continued, "I was just curious, it's not every day you get…"

"Captain Feral!"

The door to the small office burst open. A visibly panicked Ravi stood in the doorway, one paw on his knee as he bent over, gasping for breath.

"Captain Feral!"

"Woah, Ravi, slow down, what's with the rush!"

"Captain Feral! My apologies, the traffic was so heavy and the phones are out with the power, I had to run here!"

"Ok, ok, I can see that, what's the problem?"

"I was told to come and get you, something awful has happened!"

"What has happened? Ravi, calm down, tell me what's going on."

The small kat took a few seconds to compose himself before replying.

"Captain Feral, at the hospital, it's Artie Ross!"

###### ###### ######

"Hey boss, it's me."

Marco, good to hear from you. Excellent work with the substation, couldn't have pulled this off without you.

"Thanks, it wasn't too difficult. No bodies, just like you asked."

Good, good. I'm just finishing things up on my end, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a cab at the moment!

"I've got my truck, if you're holed up somewhere I can come and get you."

Truth be told, Marco wanted nothing more than to get his tail out of the city. The events of the past thirty minutes would have The Enforcers swarming about like flies, looking for anyone and everyone suspicious; a bill which he fit perfectly. Still, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to discover the identity of his mysterious employer, cops be damned.

No, no, I don't think it would be good for two ex-enforcers like us to be seen together. Don't worry, we'll have a chat soon enough.

" _Smart one._ "

"Ok, sure thing, boss. So what's our next move?"

I've got a couple of things in mind for you, something I think you'll be well suited to. You'll even get a chance to catch up with an old buddy of yours.

"Old buddy?"

Yes, someone you did some work with right after been kicked out of The Enforcers, I think you two should get along nicely!

"What? How..."

Never mind, I've got my sources, you didn't think I'd put all this trust in you without doing a bit of background first?

"No, I don't suppose you would."

Anyways, I've got a few calls to make before I can give you the go. More pressingly, what happened to van Dekker and his lot?

"Ah, well, seems that he managed to get himself caught, something about two off-duty enforcers or whatever. News only just came back on, so I'm not really sure. He's probably still being booked, if you want I can probably catch up and take him out before he says too much."

Ah, Mr Gatti, on the ball as usual! No, there won't be any need for that this time round, in fact, better if he talks a bit, give them something to chase after. I've got that angle covered, don't you worry.

"Righto, boss. So where do you need me?"

Lay low for a day or two, then meet me at the warehouse, you'll need to take some of my other employees with you, just to ah… keep up appearances.

"No problems."

Rather uncharacteristically, the other end of the line went dead almost as soon as his employer had finished talking. While it was a rather strange situation that he found himself in, Marco was quite pleased. His part, simple as it might have been, had gone off without a hitch, and apparently the capture of some of the muscle they'd sent over to the function centre to cause a ruckus had be allowed for.

Things in Megakat City were starting to heat up.

###### ###### ######

The weathered and beaten tow-truck made its way up the access road to the salvage yard, headlights flickering with every bump. By the time the two mechanics had made it back to the run down auto shop it was well and truly dark. What was always going to be a long day had been made even longer by the attack on the memorial service, not to mention their two-hour debrief and subsequent four hour journey on a metro system still recovering from a power blackout.

The mood was downright sombre as the vehicle ground to a halt in front of their residence. The two kats exited and proceeded to immediately flop down into the couch in their reception area. While still wanting for details, the brief snippet of information they gained from Felina's subordinate before being hurried out of the building, was enough to tell them that the situation was far more serious than they had initially thought. They hadn't said much so far, but they were both thinking the same thing.

"Hey buddy…" began Jake.

"Yeah?"

"We're going to have to get our tails into gear."

Chance rubbed his eyes. Despite their chase lasting all of a minute, the day's events had been draining, and it was clearly showing on the big kat's face.

"So let's get the jet up and running. You said we just needed to clean out the engines."

Jake shook his head. "There's more to it than that, and even if we could get the Turbokat airworthy again, I don't think we're going to need it any time soon, we don't even know who we're dealing with here."

"Glovatrix and Cyclotron?"

"That would be a good start," he continued, "I'm pretty sure we can have some gear up and running in a few days."

They both knew it wasn't quite as simple as they were making it out to be. Their antics downtown had caught the attention of Felina, and despite the fact that she'd have her plate full for a while, the time would come when she'd come knocking, wanting a more comprehensive explanation of their actions; not the best time to try to sneak a few thousand gallons of jet fuel into a salvage yard. Even the few minor parts they'd need to get their other equipment back in working order would be likely prove difficult.

"You think we're going to have that much time?" asked Chance.

"Well, whoever is doing all this clearly wants to make a point, why else would they attack in the middle of a memorial function? They'll want to let this sink in."

"Do you think those are the same kats that offed Vincent?"

"I think so." replied Jake, "I guess we'll learn more once The Enforcers have had a talk to the kats we caught for them."

"You want to take a quick look at the jet?"

Jake stood up and stretched. "Tomorrow, I'm spent."

Frankly, Chance was ready to turn in for the evening too, but the slim prospect of the chance to fly his beloved jet again kept him awake. He watched his partner climb the stairs leading up to their small living area and bedrooms, sitting silently for a few minutes before rising from the couch. Rather that follow, the orange kat instead made his way into the workshop, still littered with tools from the enforcer service job.

The entrance to the underground hangar was a rather unassuming round metallic grating, looking all the part a drain. A thin layer of dirt covered the entrance, which Chance brushed away before heaving the heavy metal covering aside. Stale air and the unmistakable odour of jet fuel wafted up through the open hole, the dim light of the workshop doing little to light the way down. Stepping onto the first rung, Chance made his way into the darkness; arriving at the bottom a few moments later and flicking the hangar lighting master switch to the "on" position.

" _There you are..._ "

The Turbokat loomed before him, his jet, the fastest there was, its matte black fuselage illuminated by the bright halogens. It pained him to see it in such a state, canopy cover and exhaust plugs in place, with a thick layer of dust slowly building up. Pacing around the aircraft, Chance ran his paw along the leading wing edge, wiping away some of the dust, the aerospace alloy cold to the touch. He ducked under the wingtip and placed both paws on one of the outer ailerons, pulling slowly but firmly down.

A sharp, metallic creaking echoed throughout the hangar.

"Sorry, old girl."

Jake was right; getting back in the air would be a lot of work. Even this most basic of inspections indicated that the entire hydraulic system would need to be flushed, followed by a full control surface calibration and test. Along with the undoubtedly poor condition of the intake and exhaust turbines, there was a near certainty that a good number of the electrical systems would need to be re-wired; as dry as the hangar may be, corrosion of electrical components was inevitable.

Chance simply sat and watched for the better part of an hour, half expecting the klaxxon to sound at any moment. Eventually, fatigue got the better of the large kat and he made his way back up the access ladder and into the workshop, the loud thunk of the grating sounding all too final, like he was sealing a tomb. At the very least, he had had some time to think, to clear his head. The events of the past twelve hours had been intense, and they'd no doubt find out more in the days to come. For the time being, however, Chance was content to simply crash into his bed.

###### ###### ######

Feral cleared his desk with a single sweep of his arm before violently slamming both fists down. The Enforcers had been through far worse, but time they'd been hit right where it hurt. Today everyone saw how helpless they were to protect their own, how they had been made sport of. This wasn't some crazed megalomanic villain looking for a straight up fight, this was far more insidious. Whoever this was, they were willing to play a very nasty game.

Internally, he had made somewhat of a point of delegating responsibility to other, especially his niece. The Civic Security Authority was already quietly pushing for his retirement; this most recent failure would serve only to make them more pushy. Trust the city councilors to politicise a tragedy to suit their own agenda.

" _And it just had to be those two reckless hotshots…_ "

Personal feelings aside, the two specialists had handed him the only lead as to who or what was after enforcer blood. That van Dekker creep they had locked up would surely talk; one look at him and Feral knew he would be quick to save his own tail.

That he would see to personally.

Other than van Dekker's upcoming interrogation, he would be handing over the majority of the investigation to his niece. Any notions of gently introducing her to the responsibilities of command were now moot; it was sink or swim, and currently, they were sinking.

He picked the intercom up off the floor and punched the code for Felina's office. It picked up after a single ring.

Yes, uncle?

It was past midnight, and his niece had been working for eighteen hours straight. He knew she'd work until morning if asked, but he needed her mentally sharp. At least some sleep was in order.

"That's enough for today, we'll get things moving in the morning."

But sir!

He had long since grown accustomed to her stubbornness, and knew well how to get around it.

"No buts, Felina, get that debrief on Furlong and Clawson up to my office in five minutes then get your tail back to the accommodation block; I expect you to report in at seven sharp."

Give her something small to do and she'd relent.

Yes sir, anything else?

"Yes, call my car."

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
A shorter chapter, I know, but I've got the next few planned out. Took me a bit longer to get my new place sorted than I had anticipated, but hopefully I can get back to a more regular update schedule. As usual, please read and review. I've received some nice feedback so far, I really do appreciate it! Thanks a bunch!

-AR 


	8. Chapter 7 - All Time Low

As much as it was her most hated aspect of the job, she wasn't blind to the opportunity that had just been presented to her. Politicking was par for the course in her position, and was only going to get worse should she succeed in her attempt at the top job. While Manx would take to socialising with the upper echelons of Megakat City society in a heartbeat, Callie preferred to be more simplistic work-go-home-get-paid dynamic. After all, meet-and-greets were the job of the PR department. She had been tested many times during her tenure as Deputy Mayor, and each and every time she had come out on top. This time, however, was different.

This time she had something to gain.

While she had been present during the attack on the memorial service, her personal security detail had whisked her away almost as soon as it had begun. Naturally, she had read the multitude of reports that had ended up on her desk, and apart from the surprise of learning of the heroics of her two mechanics, nothing had struck her as being out of the ordinary; there'd be a trial, she'd have to talk to the media, write a speech for Manx, do the usual rounds. Crushingly routine.

Even the letter that sat on her desk, officially addressed to the Office of the Mayor from the Commander of the Megakat City Enforcers, wasn't unexpected. It contained the commentary one would expect of recent events. Suggestions as to how to improve officer safety, potential policy changes and the like, as well as a smattering of personal opinion. As much as kats on the city's payroll were encouraged to remain politically neutral, Callie very much doubted that Feral saw this as a political issue.

" _Everything's political._ "

And so it was with this too. Based purely on the content of the letter, which she had read through a number of times, it would appear to be little more than a long-winded gripe. A natural reaction, to be sure; Feral might be a hard-liner, but he did genuinely care about his subordinates. There was, however, one small fact that suggested something far deeper. Three words, in bold red font, plastered across the top of every page.

IN STRICT CONFIDENCE

She had dealt with secrecy before; the funding for the Blue Manx project had been highly classified, along with issues pertaining to the incarceration of the city's more dangerous criminals. But a letter addressed in strict confidence? This was new.

And so she did what anyone with her level of experience would do; read between the lines.

Feral had made repeated mentions of the Megakat City Civic Security Authority, and how he felt they had failed in their duties to provision The Enforcers with sufficient funds for training and equipment. He had gone so far as to name several members of the authority who he felt should resign.

"...it is my hope that the city council, through the MCCSA, finds it to support leadership transitions within the Megakat City Enforcers, and provide any future command staff with full cooperation. The Enforcers are willing to cooperate with any members of the city government who may wish to facilitate this support…"

And there it was; the incorruptible Ulysses Feral offering to support Calico Briggs in her upcoming election campaign. The price: keep the MCCSA off his back. While The Enforcers as an organisation were required to remain politically neutral, it seemed that even Feral wasn't above bending the rules from time to time. Hardly corruption, but certain to raise an eyebrow or two, especially within the security authority.

Naturally, this left Callie in a bit of a bind. The reputation of the city's law enforcement wasn't exactly stellar. As much as the past two years and gone a long way to smooth things over with the general populace, the inability of The Enforcers to deal with threats to the city prior to that still lingered in kat's memories.

" _Wonder if I could get T-Bone and Razor to publically endorse Feral?_ "

Laughable, really. The ever-popular SWAT Kats hadn't been seen for near on a year, although from time to time they had made an appearance. Not that they'd ever want to support Feral, even if doing so helped Callie.

" _Sure, why not?_ "

Almost flippantly she pulled out her writing pad and began penning her response. If she was going to get anyone on side, it might as well be Feral. Although hardly focused on his public image, the commander's heart was in the right place, and Callie felt that would at least count for something come election time. Plus, his niece was looking more and more likely to take over the reigns, and she was certainly easier to get along with than her uncle.

It took her the better part of half an hour to finish her reply. Though only a page in length, she had been careful to avoid promising too much. Sealing it in an envelope, she called her secretary and had it sent direct to Enforcer Headquarters via express courier; Feral should be reading it within the hour.

Callie's day, however, had come to an end. Up since five that morning, preparing reports for the Mayor, who typically didn't arrive until nine, she had been working the better part of ten hours.

" _Time to go._ "

She collected her personal belongs from her desk; keys, purse, cell-phone, and placed them in her bag. Her fingers brushed over something small and metallic.

And triangular.

" _Oh..._ "

Callie stepped away from the window and glanced briefly about before pulling the communicator from her bag. It had been so long since she had needed it, and for the most part she forgot it was there. Occasionally she'd take it out to change the batteries, check it was still in working order, or to simply remind herself that help was there if she needed it. Part of her, however, doubted whether the city's heroes would spring to action should she press the button.

" _It's a strange thing,_ " she thought, " _it's like it was just yesterday._ "

She couldn't help but smile as she recalled the first time she walked into the office, freshly appointed, only to discover Razor sitting on her window ledge, oblivious to the thousand foot drop behind him. She had been wary, having read several newspaper reports about an unidentified jet and several katnip dealers turning up bound and gagged on the steps of Enforcer Headquarters. A few words had been exchanged, and after an assurance that this kat, claiming to be one half of a duo calling themselves "The SWAT Kats", was here to do the jobs that The Enforcers couldn't, she had been casually tossed her communicator.

" _Maybe I'll take a drive out of the city…_ "

She was sorely tempted to press the button. Recent events had left her in need of some reassurance. She wasn't sure what two vigilantes in a fighter jet could do, but just knowing they were still there would be enough. She resisted, though, placing the communicator back in her bag. It wouldn't be right.

Callie still had faith.

###### ###### ######

"I don't believe it."

Returning to the warehouse after a few days of inconspicuous domestic living, Marco had expected to be once again called into the small office at the rear of the building, where he would finally meet his elusive employer.

But here he was, standing amidst the warehouse workers, barking orders as they shuffled boxes and crates about.

"Ah, Marco, good to see you again!"

The grey kat stood dumbfounded for a moment before replying.

"Mr Tug...uh...Steele, what are you…"

The former second in command of The Enforcers chuckled and walked over to Marco, putting his arm around the taller kat's shoulder.

"Surprised?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little."

"Well, don't be! You didn't think I had just disappeared, did you?"

"I hadn't really given it much thought." said Marco. He motioned towards the workers, "What are all this lot doing? I thought you just ran this place as a warehouse, didn't realise you were in the explosives business."

Steele released Marco, walked over to an open crate and picked up a foil-wrapped brick.

"Mining explosives, Mr Gatti, very useful! Tiger Conklin's son sent them to us as a gift, a thank you for several ah, jobs we did for his company. But don't worry about that just yet, notice anything else?"

Marco panned his gaze about the warehouse. The dozen or so kats had stopped their work, their eyes now squarely fixed on the grey furred kat. A stern looking lot, their expressions were devoid of emotion, ears flat against their heads, shoulders pressed back, standing bolt upright.

It didn't take Marco long to figure it out.

"Your workers, they're all ex-enforcers."

Steele clapped his paws together. "Excellent, you continue to impress me, Mr Gatti! Yes, yes, all of us once worked that that untouchable organ of civic justice and, like you, we were all thrown out like garbage."

Despite the nature of his current line of work, Marco had never felt any real animosity towards The Enforcers. Sure, he had no qualms putting them in the ground, but he wasn't about to go on some revenge mission.

Then again, if the revenge mission was paying…

"Ok, boss." he began. "I think I see what's going on here. You attracted a bit of media attention when you were discharged, so if you want to go after cops and you keep paying me like you this, I'm in."

Steele feigned offence.

"Marco, Marco, this isn't just about me. It's about you, about these kats here, about everyone The Enforcers threw out on their tail. For all our service, all those years spent facing crazies and psychos, we've been given nothing, no pension, no support, just tossed out and forgotten."

"Well, we did receive a bad conduct discharge…"

"That's not the point! Even kats who have spent twenty years in the force have retired on an income barely enough to put food on their tables! It's disgraceful! My father…"

Steele caught himself; it was rare that he got himself so worked up in front of his employees.

"It's time the city stops taking us for granted."

"OK, sure, so what the play, boss?"

"Simple, we just make it so dangerous to be an enforcer in this town that the city council is forced to take notice. Tough love, I know, but it works. Heck, the memorial service you had van Dekker crash was mostly just to show a new and sensitive side to The Enforcers. The timing couldn't be better."

Marco wasn't stupid; he suspected there was something else going on here; no-one would risk a lifetime in Alkatraz to bring some misguided ideal of justice to a law enforcement agency. He would prefer straight up revenge.

"Look, boss, if you want me to shoot cops, I'll shoot cops, but it's going to take more than a body or two to get Feral to change, you know how he is."

Steele waved his finger at Marco, "I do, Mr Gatti, I certainly do, which is why we're not going to do it ourselves, we're going to have help."

"Help?"

"Yes," replied Steele, turning his back towards Marco and walking towards his small office. "come."

Marco followed Steele towards the back of the warehouse, walking through the familiar waiting area and into the dark office. It was smaller than it looked from the exterior, big enough only for a worn old desk, a few filing cabinets and a single visitor's chair.

"Sit."

Marco waited as Steele typed away at the small terminal on his desk. His brow furrowed in a moment of extreme concentration before he broke into a wide grin, spinning in his chair to face Marco.

"So, tell me what you did straight out of the force?"

"I'm sure you already know that."

"I do, but I'm after your side of the story."

"Well," continued the grey kat, "I had a daughter to feed so I ran with the mob for a bit."

"Which family?"

"It was Katscratch's group."

"And why did you go solo?"

Marco shifted in his chair, even after all these years, Steele still talked like a cop, and his questioning was starting to develop a distinctively interrogative atmosphere.

"Well, Mac and Molly Mange came back and wrecked everything. Iced Katscratch and scared everyone else into hiding."

"Yes, yes, apart from you, it seems."

Marco shrugged, "gotta pay the bills somehow."

Steele leaned back. "And that, Mr Gatti, is why I decided to take you on board. You understand the business that we're in, and you're good at your job. I wasn't sure I could trust you up until now, but you've done so well, I can't help but make you an offer."

"...go on."

"How does a monthly retainer of thirty thousand dollars sound? You'll work for me, and only me. The lot I've got here, they're good in a fight, but I need someone a bit better, a bit smarter. I need a right-hand kat in all this."

Marco almost laughed. Even if he had stuck it out with the mob and become a made kat, the most he could expect to see what ten grand, tops; he'd have to make up the rest on the side. Thirty grand, that wasn't something he was going to turn down.

"You've got a deal, boss."

Steele stood up. "Wonderful! You'll understand if we don't sign anything, paperwork leaves such a troublesome trail."

Marco nodded.

"So, the first order of business, Mr Gatti. We don't have the kats to pull anything bigger than what we've already done, but the mob does. We're going to need boots on the ground, and they can provide the kats we need."

"What make you think you can get them to work with you? Last I checked they were at each other's throats."

"Simple," said Steele, "we just bring to their attention the massive opportunity that presents itself now that things are different. Think about it, no more Metallikats to run from. Dark Kat, Dr Viper, they haven't been seen in years. No-one left to keep them down, the city is ripe for the taking!"

"Uh huh, and what if they don't see it that way."

"Well, that's where you come in. I've already arranged a meeting, I just need you and a couple of my staff to accompany me, make sure that things go smoothly. If they don't, if anyone gives us trouble, well, you can sort them out for me!"

"Ok, sure thing boss, but you're going to need more than a bit of muscle to win them over, we can't just shoot everyone."

"I know, Mr Gatti, which is why I have this."

Steele reached into his pocket and fished out a small piece of paper, folded it over and thrust it towards Marco. Marco turned the note over in his paws and read the contents.

His eyes went wide.

"Where did you get this?"

###### ###### ######

"Last chance to back out, buddy."

"No way. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Life in prison?" suggested Jake.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

The two kats jumped from the cab of the truck, Chance reaching into the back tray and pulling out a rucksack before the pair darted across the street and into an alley. It was nearing ten in the evening, well past the afternoon rush, but not so late that a pair of kats in denim overalls driving a tow-truck would look out of place.

"You sure we can get up here?" asked Chance.

"Best I can figure." replied Jake. "The building is right there, unless The Enforcers put up that huge sign just to trick us."

"What if she's not in?"

"Well, we'll have a nice view at least."

Chance looked up and down the alley, scanning for any movement, before reaching into the bag and pulling out two freshly repaired glovatrixes. He and Jake slipped them over their paws and trained them upwards.

"Grappling hooks, deploy"

With a familiar twitch of the index finger, both glovatrixes fired their hooks with a loud pneumatic pop. Jake's grapple found purchase on the roof four floors above them, the orange kat giving the line a firm tug test its hold.

"Ok, hotshot, we're good to…"

Jake turned to face his partner just in time to see a hook and some thirty feet of high tensile steel cable collide with his face. It took every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Chance glared at him.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Hey, don't forget you had a dig at me for missing that shot outside the function centre."

Chance retracted the cable and took aim again. His second shot found its mark and the hook held fast. With a final check of the alleyway, the two kats activated their winches and ascended towards the roof, the whining of the high powered electrical motors almost inaudible against the background noise of the city. The instant they reached the top, the pair dashed behind an ageing air con unit and crouched down.

"So far, so good, but we've got a problem."

Jake pointed across the rooftop and towards the adjacent building; the Enforcer's officer's residency block. From the outset, he had ruled out going in through the lobby; too much extra security in the wake of the attack. Flying in was also off the table, even if they could get the jet working they'd been seen from miles away.

Fortunately, they still had an option. The building was comprised of two towers running perpendicular to the road, connected via a terrace some six stories up. The terrace appeared to be some sort of recreational area, sporting a swimming pool and several shaded seating areas. The rooftop they had just scaled was a mere six feet lower than the terrace and separated by an alley only some fifteen feet wide. Easy enough grapple across.

Or so it would have been had The Enforcers not seen fit to hastily erect razor wire fencing about the perimeter of the terrace.

"Think you can jump that?" asked Chance.

"Only one way to find out, we've managed to get this far, no turning back."

"Alright, let's do this!"

Jake backed up as far as he could and sprinted at Chance, the larger kat bending his knees, locking his fingers together and cupping his paws in anticipation. With a burst of speed over the final few feet, Jake jumped, kicking his right leg out into Chance's paws. Chance heaved his arms up and over his head, propelling his partner through the air. Jake sailed across the gap, completing a full vertical rotation mid air. The height was good.

"ARRGH!"

Jake felt the teeth of the razor wire slice through denim, fur and skin, opening up a six inch gash in his thigh.

"Jake!"

Chance jumped out and fired his grapple, catching a ledge just below the terrace. He pulled himself up as far as he could, his feet scrambling for purchase.

"Buddy, are you ok?" he called out.

A groan, "Yeah, just peachy. Nice throw."

"Nice landing."

Chance pulled himself level with the razor wire. A quick slash of his glovatrix's saw blade and he was through. By the time he had scrambled up and onto the terrace, Jake had picked himself up, still clutching at the wound in his leg.

"They're going to find the blood and cut wire," he said, "we better get moving."

The pair jogged across the terrace towards the rear of the two buildings, staying low between the artificial garden beds. Upon reaching the base of the tower, they shuffled their way along the wall until they came to a ventilation grating.

"Ok," said Jake, "we've got to get to the roof. Only way I see is the elevator shaft. My guess is that it's through here."

"What makes you say that?"

"Air is moving out." he replied. "Most of these buildings suck the air in at the bottom and pump it out the top. Only reason air would be coming out here is if something was moving inside."

"Right."

Chance produced a pry-bar from his overalls and set to work removing the grating. He'd already used his buzzsaw once; the noise it made was too great to risk using it a second time. The metallic covering was not particularly strong, and a minute later and they were through.

Jake had been correct; after some twenty feet of crawling, the duct opened up into the tower's elevator shaft. Stale, warm air blasted up at them as they climbed out onto a steel beam.

"Haven't done this in a while." quipped Jake.

The two kat's deftly jumped onto the roof of an elevator car as it ascended the shaft. The muffled voices of two enforcers could be heard from inside, engaging in the usual trite end-of-shift conversation. The elevator made a single stop, at which point one of the officers exited, before continuing upwards. Some forty floors later and the elevator had yet to stop.

The top of the shaft bore down on them.

"Chance, jump!"

With less than a floor to go, they leapt from the elevator car, grabbing onto a ladder mounted to the side of the shaft.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?" said Chance.

The elevator car had stopped at the very top of the shaft, reducing the clearance between it at the winching mechanism to less than a foot. A short climb and they found themselves on a small platform, the only obvious exit being a turquoise utility door. Chance reached for the handle.

"Wait!" shot Jake.

Holding his arm out in front of him, Jake punched a few buttons on his glovatrix with his free paw, the device emitting several beeps before falling silent.

"There's a camera out there, four feet to the left. We'll need to take it out."

"On it." replied Chance.

The large tabby readied his own glovatrix and violently shouldered the door, breaking it clean off its hinges. The instant the way was clear, Jake sprung forward using his good leg, rolling as he hit the ground and coming to a crouching position. He swung his right arm round and took aim, releasing a mini scrambler missile at the camera. The weapon struck, it's four electrodes piercing the thin aluminium skin and delivering thirty thousand volts, instantly overloading the circuitry and shattering the lens outwards in a blast of sparks and broken glass.

"YOU, FREEZE!"

So concerned had he been with getting in and past whatever security had been set up that Jake had failed to consider that there might simply be a guard posted to the roof. He had his back turned, and while the enforcer couldn't see his face, his glovatrix was in plain view.

"Paws up!"

Before he could move, Jake heard the unmistakable hiss of a miniature rocket engine, followed a split second later by a dull thunk and the rapid ticking of an electroshock weapon as Chance's scrambler hit the enforcer just under the armpit. Jake spun around, the enforcer was out cold.

"Chance!"

Chance shrugged, "What did you want me to do, surrender?"

Jake shook his head. This wasn't going to go over well with Felina.

"At least prop him up against the wall, we don't want…"

Watchdog four, Sunray minor, authenticate, over.

The two kats froze as the radio buzzed to life.

"What now?" asked Chance, "my enforcer ratel is even worse than yours!"

"Don't pick up, it's take longer for them to send someone if they just think the radio is down. We've gotta hurry."

Jake sprinted from the winch room and across the roof of the tower. Apart from the usual industrial sized air con units and aircraft warning lights, the distinguishing feature of the tower was a large microwave communications dish. Jake slid up next to it and pulled out a small toolkit.

"So what's the deal here?" asked Chance, following his partner.

"Well," said Jake, "The Enforcers like to keep communications open between all their facilities, that's what this dish is for. Because it's all point-to-point, unless someone wants to hover a helicopter between here and Enforcer Headquarters, there's no risk of interception, so they don't both with any sort of encryption."

"So?"

"So, we just find the right line and we can call any terminal in the building."

"And how do we know the right line?"

"Well, I'm hoping that…bingo!"

Jake removed the service panel at the base of the dish and pulled out a clipboard. He had counted on maintenance being lazy, and it had paid off; a list of every resident in the building and their line number.

"So now we just hook in and…"

###### ###### ######

The limo was a nice touch, even if it was a hire job. Steele had originally intended to travel to the meeting in his company's vans, believing that anything more would raise suspicion. Marco, despite his limited experience with such kats, had insisted that a show was required. That meant traveling in style, and being openly armed with a good number of hired goons. Everyone expected you to bring heat, why disappoint.

"Here you go, boss, you'll need this."

Steele took the pistol from Marco's outstretched paw.

"Wasn't planning on shooting anyone, but it can't help to be prepared."

Marco was starting to get nervous. Steele was clearly in his element when it came to skullduggery and scheming, but was decidedly ametuer in actually dealing with other criminals. These weren't kats who were going to be impressed by a bit of smooth talking or the occasional knife to the back; you needed to show that you meant business.

"Boss," he continued, "this is a bit different from what you're used to. Just make sure that everyone can see that gun on you, but for kat's sake, don't pull it out."

Steele shot him a severe look. "Don't tell me how to do my job, Mr Gatti, I've got you here as assurance, nothing more."

"Sure thing, boss."

In spite of its size, the limo was cramped. Six kats, not including the driver, had packed into the back. Throw in their weapons, and they were squeezed in like sardines. Marco had positioned himself next to the door; if he was going to be Steele's lieutenant, he wanted to be front and centre.

"Hey boss, why the Megakat Grand?"

Steele looked at Marco as if he were a kitten.

"Mr Gatti, you might know the Megakat underworld, but I know the other end of society. Hotels like big spenders, and big spenders like to be discrete. So, hotels don't ask questions."

"Right."

" _Hotels also have plenty of security cameras._ " he thought.

Marco spent the remaining ten minutes of the trip conversing with the rest of Steele's hire muscle. For the most part they had all done mob work before, although two of them had previously made a living offing mobsters over bad debt. They all seemed competent, and Marco cautiously trusted them to handle themselves in a pinch.

The limo pulled up directly outside the main entrance.

From here on out, it was just one big act. Marco went through the motions with the concierge, informing him of a booking for the top floor conference room under the name of Tugger. After some shuffling of papers, Marco was handed a key and the group made their way to the elevator.

"Ok boys, guns out, look tough."

On cue, the rest of the kats pulled out their weapons, an assortment of lasers and sluggers, some rather stylishly modified.

"Ready, boss?"

"Yep, ready."

The elevator doors opened and the six kats strode confidently forward. The double oak doors leading to the conference room loomed ahead, flanked by two mobsters sporting rifles. Without a word, the doors were opened. Steele was the first through.

"Ah, Mr Tugger, I was beginning to wonder when you would show!"

An enormously overweight kat, flanked by a dozen armed guards, sat in a chair at the end of a huge conference table. To either side were the bosses of several of the Megakat City crime families and their respective entourages. All up, there were close to fifty armed kats, far too many for any one group to take down. Just the way a mob meeting was supposed to be. Marco tightened the grip on his pistol.

One of the kats was staring directly at him.

A snow white kat, tall and lanky with piercing blue eyes. He mouth was twisted into a smirk.

" _I know that kat…_ "

He remembered that Steele had said something about working with a former acquaintance, but he couldn't quite put a name to the face.

His thoughts were interrupted by his employer.

"Mr Artiglio, I do not believe I've had the honour of meeting you. Please, let me just say that…"

The huge kat waved his paw. "Please, Mr Tugger, spare me. I know who you are and what you've done. A nice move, I might add. What I don't know, however, is why you've called us here. You promised us something that we've been after for a long time."

Marco glanced over at his boss. For all his attempt at grandeur, Steele currently looked like a deer caught in headlights. The Artigeleo family had more or less run the organised crime scene in Megakat City ever since Katscratch met his fate at the paws of a pair of murderous robots. Unlike Katscratch, however, Gus Artiglio had maintained a far more civil relationship with the minor families, even if doing so meant he had had to make several concessions of his own.

It seemed that false charm was not one such concession.

"Well, I…" Steele stammered.

"WHY DID YOU LET HIM IN HERE ALIVE?!"

Several of the guards flinched. The outburst had come from one of the minor bosses. The kat had jumped from his seat and stood upright, finger pointed squarely at Artiglio.

"Lorenzo, please, calm down." Gus responded. "Mr Tugger has come here in good faith, at least hear him out. The death of your cousin's boy was unfortunate, but that's part of our business."

"Good faith?!" shot the kat Gus had called Lorenzo, "Good faith? Vincent is dead. This bastard has his throat slit and then has the gall to come here. Whacking a cop is one thing, but you mess with my family, my own blood, and you don't just get to walk away!"

Gus shifted his vast bulk slightly, but maintained an almost bored expression across his fat face.

"Lorenzo, you're not showing our guest the respect he deserves. If you wish to take issue with Mr Tugger, do it on your own time, don't make us suffer your outbursts."

Lorenzo clenched his fist, his anger clearly growing.

"No, not this time. He's not even one of us, Mr Artiglio, you let him in like he's an equal, why shouldn't we just…"

"ENOUGH!"

Marco surprised even himself. The next five seconds would either make or break Steele's reputation with the bosses, not to mention determining whether or not he was about to receive a bullet to the face.

"Lorenzo, is it?" Marco spat at the standing kat. "I was there, I watched Vincent die, I made it happen. I was paid to do it, that's the game we're in. You have a problem with our methods, you talk to me. We'll see if cowardice runs in the family."

Gus Artigelo burst into laughter. "Mr Tugger, you surprise me, perhaps I misjudged. Please, sit, tell us why we're here."

Steele, suddenly looking exceptionally pleased with himself, sat at the end of the table opposite Gus. The act was back on.

"Gentlekats," he began, "as Mr Artigelo has pointed out, you know who I am. If you know that, then you know that in my previous line of work, I was able to keep a rather close eye on a number of you. I know what sort of problems you face, why you haven't been able to sell katnip, why your gun runners keep ending up in Alcatraz."

"You know nothing." said one of the bosses, "You saw what happened to Katscratch. What do you think it's like having Dark Kat breath down your neck? For all his talk about a "capital of crime", he didn't much like competition."

Steele waited patiently for the interruption to end.

"Yes, I'm aware." he continued. "But Dark Kat is gone, so are the Metallikats. Everyone who once posed a threat to you has disappeared. So what happened? Why haven't any of you made your move yet?"

"We're not in the same business as those lunatics."

"Exactly! You're all far to smart for that! The right money into the right pockets will do more than all the guns in the city. I know all the attempts you made to pay your way around problems, to get your guys out of jail, to get The Enforcers off your back. I know why it's all failed."

The room stared at him in silence. Steele grinned.

"Our dear deputy mayor, Calico Briggs."

"What about her?"

"Well, it's simple really. Without her, Manx would accept your money and you'd be free to conduct your business. Instead, you get treated like common criminals. Fortunately for you, I have a solution."

Gus shifted again. "Go on, we're listening."

Steele pulled out an envelope from his jacket. "Well all know that if it was as simple as ensuring that she had a nasty accident, she'd already be out of the picture. But it's harder than that, too much security; she's got enforcers with her everywhere she goes. Not just any enforcers, either; personally selected by Feral."

This was the part that had surprised Marco the most. True enough, as a result of the multiple attempts against her, the deputy mayor enjoyed the highest level of protection afforded to a civil servant. Everywhere she went; her offices, public engagements, her home.

Her home.

According to Steele, Ms Briggs had insisted that she be allowed some leeway with her security while at her personal residence. Understandable, nobody liked being surrounded by guns day and night. To counter the obvious threat this posed, the exact whereabouts of Callie Briggs' home was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the city.

And Steele had found it.

"So, bosses of Megakat City," the former second-in-command of The Enforcers articulated, "I'll give you all the information you need to ensure that Calico Briggs is permanently removed from office. All I need is one small favour from all of you."

The rest of the evening went like clockwork. Marco was surprised how quickly everyone had relented to Steele's terms. He knew the deputy mayor had been a thorn in their sides for a long time, but he hadn't quite understood the hatred they bore her as a result. Steele was back in his element; outlining his plans and ambitions for the city with its most ruthless denizens. It seemed that he would get the kats and the guns he needed to pull this whole thing off.

Three hours later and they were back in the limo.

"Good job there, Mr Gatti, I'm very glad I hired you."

"If I'm honest, boss, it was a gamble. I figured that if they'd shot us, you wouldn't have the opportunity to yell at me."

Steele laughed. "I suppose not, but even so, good work."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, you've still got one small job to take care of before we can move on."

"Yeah?"

Steele motioned to the other kats in the limo. "We can't have anyone mess this up for us. Take this lot with you, you'll need the firepower."

"What am I doing?"

"Oh it's pretty easy, really, just kill Lorenzo for me."

###### ###### ######

Abby had been inconsolable. Felina couldn't remember anything so gut-wrenchingly painful as delivering to news of Artie's death to her friend, even going to far as to ask her uncle to do it for her. However, the commander had insisted that this was part of the job, and that she had better get used to it. Perhaps a little unsympathetic of him, but he wasn't wrong.

To top things off, she'd had to ask Ravi to work late. Naturally, he'd complained, stating that he'd been coming in several hours early for the past two months. It was, however, unavoidable, they'd been getting more intrusions on their network recently, and Ravi was the only one in her office that seemed to know what he was doing when it came to electronic security.

" _Even if he does spend half his time playing games._ "

Finally, though, the day had ended. She hadn't had time to hit the gym, and once again found herself picking up takeaway on the way home. By the time she got back, she was exhausted and hankering to get to bed.

She was just about to turn in when the intercom buzzed.

" _What, who…?_ "

There weren't many reasons for calling this time of night. Either this was exceptionally important, or someone was about to get a chewing out.

She flopped down onto her covers before rolling over and switching on the intercom terminal next to her bed.

"Captain Feral speaking."

Felina, it's been a while.

"Who is this?"

Aw, c'mon, you don't recognise Megakat City's favourite tail-kicking pilot?

"...T-Bone?"

The one and only.

Suddenly, Felina didn't feel tired anymore.

"Where have you guys been? Where's Razor? What's going on, we haven't heard from you guys since Greenbox and Zed!"

I'm sure your uncle doesn't mind. Razor's right here, he's just keeping an eye out; we, uh, had to break in.

"You broke in? Where are you?"

You'll find out soon enough. Look, Felina, we can't stay too long. We know something's going down in the city, but we're in the dark. You've gotta know something.

"T-Bone, I can't just go discussing Enforcer matters. Things have changed, we…"

I know, I know, but you've got to give us something. We can't just sit back while all this happens. Whoever is doing this is targeting enforcers, and as much as I hate to say it, the city needs you, but you're going to need us.

Felina bit her lip. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried. Despite the audacious nature of the attack against them, they had very little to go on. With the score three-nil against them, they really did need a new angle. T-Bone and Razor had never the city down before, she didn't think they'd start over something like this.

"Alright guys, I'll let you in, but we don't have much."

Shoot.

"We only caught a couple after the attack. The leader is a kat called Felix van Dekker, but he's almost certainly not the brains behind this. He hasn't said much yet, but he's a known associate of the Lorenzo crime family. My uncle was going to have a word with him tomorrow morning, so we might find out more."

Did this van Dekker kat say who sent him?

"No, but he's probably just hired muscle, might not even know who his employer is. Still, they knew exactly where and when to hit us, so we're going with the theory that whoever is behind this is an ex-enforcer."

Any leads?

"We're going over our records for anyone who served in the past thirty years, starting with OTO discharges. Nothing yet, but…"

But what?

"No, it's nothing."

Sounds like these Lorenzo kats might be a good place to start, where can we find them?

"You're going to take on the mob?"

Better us than you, you're always having trouble with warrants.

Felina grinned; typical T-Bone.

"Fine, get yourself killed." she jokingly replied. "Leo Lorenzo is the current family head, he spends most of his time up at his mansion in Megakat Hills, the huge one along Saint Nivelles Boulevard, pretty hard to miss."

We'll check it out. Thanks, Felina.

"No problem."

We've gotta jet, need to take Razor to get his leg patched up.

The line went dead. Felina sat up and simply gazed out the window for a while. Was she excited about the prospect of working with the SWAT Kats again? It would be difficult, considering he new position, but it was in her nature to be a bit rebellious.

It would be an added bonus if they ended up taking out Lorenzo. A nice thought, but unlikely, it wasn't their style.

The intercom buzzed again.

"Yeah?"

Captain Feral! Is everything ok? Your line went dead for a few minutes!"

"Ravi? Are you still at work? Jeez, I didn't mean for you to stay this late."

Yes, I know, but I was onto something!

"Really? What do you have?"

I'm sorry, but I couldn't get anything, whoever is trying to hack in is being very tricky. But that's not important right now! Is everything ok over there!?

Felina paused for a moment, musing over this most recent development.

Captain Feral?

"Ravi, can you keep a secret?"

###### ###### ###### 

Author's Notes:  
I'm off to Melbourne next week for a gig, so I made this chapter a little longer to compensate for any delay I might have with the next chapter. I tried very hard to avoid a dark-knight-esque feel, not sure if I succeeded. I really hope I'm not putting too many OC's in, although I promise you that only a few are actually important!

Also if I mess any American idioms up, or if the dialogue feels unusually "foreign" feel free to call me out on it. I'm actually basing some of the speech patterns of my characters on a friend of mine from Mississippi, but other than that, I don't really have a lot to go on.

There's some more action coming up, so keep reading and keep sending me those reviews, I really appreciate it. You guys are great!

-AR


	9. Chapter 8 - A Friendly Reminder

It was a situation that Felix van Dekker was all too familiar with.

He'd been caught before. His first ever job, boosting a car for some small-time crook, had seen him locked up for eight months. Four months for a measly one and a half grand. The learning, experience, however, had proved invaluable. Not two weeks after release he'd scored his first big hit; a banker who'd run afoul of the wrong crowd. Ten grand, and all he'd had to do was break the fool's legs and torch his store. Easy money.

That one cost him ten months.

He'd very quickly come to realise that knowing the right kats made all the difference when it came to how long you'd spend locked away. A good lawyer could swing a technicality in your favour, or make an inconvenient piece of evidence inadmissible. As it turned out, such lawyers rarely built their reputations defending the innocent. For Felix, however, this had been a luxury he simply couldn't afford.

Lesson two; make yourself useful to kats with money.

The first few mob hits he'd done were fairly routine; rival families, street gangs, the sort of incident that The Enforcers wouldn't bother looking into too rigourously. Job payout was worse then freelance work, the mob's cut being as high as eighty percent for newcomers, but the offer of real, genuine protection made the deal worthwhile. Of course, any offer of protection was moot if he talked. Talkers didn't last long.

Lesson three; keep your mouth shut.

And so it had worked for him all these years. The row after row of steel bars was a sight he'd seen many times before; an almost ironic reminder of the systemic corruption in the Megakat City justice system. From here, all he need do is say nothing, and somewhere, someone would take care of the rest. He expected to be in here for a week or two before his trial, plenty of time to relax and take stock. Sure, the job had been freelance, but he'd earned the right to do a hit or two on the side; the mob would tolerate such actions as long as they didn't interfere with family business.

"Get a move on!"

Felix was aggressively shoved forward by the prison guard. He'd been taking is slow, walking at a leisurely pace to let them know that, despite being in prison jumpsuit with his paws shackled behind his back, he was in charge; he'd be out in a week or two.

He couldn't be touched.

It had struck him as somewhat curious that they'd bothered to ship him all the way to Alkatraz, even if it was only a dozen or so miles off the coast. He was aware that their actions were likely to cause The Enforcers to raise security levels, but Alkatraz? He had expected to spend a week or two in the lockup at Enforcer Headquarters, not in a prison usually reserved for Megakat City's most violent and dangerous criminals.

"Alright, van Dekker, in ya go!"

Felix was again shoved, more violently this time. He was forced to his knees before falling through the open cell door onto his side. Unlike the Enforcer lockup, Alkatraz was old. His cell was a mere eight by four feet, a cold stone floor with no bed, no wash basin, not even a toilet. Kats in for the long haul or in solitary confinement could expect at least these basic luxuries in their cells. For kats on the main block, however, this was all they got. Sleeping on the floor, eating in the prisoners mess and relieving themselves in the ablution blocks on the exercise yard. At least he wouldn't have to put up with it for long.

It was to be expected. The Enforcers were permitted by the city council to run its prison facilities with a minimum of oversight. Feral had, on several occasions, publicly stated his belief that prison should be uncomfortable, and that any funds that might be used to improve conditions could be better spent on the enforcers themselves. The lockups back at headquarters were comfortable enough; they had to be in the event that some dignitary's son ended up spending a night there after having a bit too much to drink.

Felix stumbled to his feet. The door hadn't closed yet.

" _Hmmm, what's this?_ "

There was a slow but definite increase in the general noise of the cell block. Kats on the levels both above and below him were shouting, screaming even. Above the racket, the two guards who had escorted him could be heard arguing. Felix risked a look back over his shoulder.

"Crud, I told them we're going to have a major incident if someone doesn't do something about this damn locks!"

One of the guards was mashing his paw into a biometric palm scanner located just next to the cell door, his brow very clearly contorted in frustration.

"Relax" replied the other guard, "I'll check it out, just keep an eye on this one."

"Don't see why we need these fancy palm scanners, what's wrong with a key?"

The other guard was already walking back down the row of cells towards the security station, "A key will get you shanked."

The solitary remaining guard turned to face Felix, narrowing his eyes on him,

"Something wrong, siiiiiir?" Felix asked, his voice dripping with self-righteousness.

"Shut your mouth, van Dekker, we'll get you…"

The dull but unmistakable crack of distant gunshots sounded from the adjacent block. The guard in front of Felix instantly drew his weapon, training it upon him. His free paw shot to the radio hanging over his shoulder.

"Mark, what's the deal? You shoot someone?"

The reply was garbled, the thick stone walls blocking radio even over such a short distance.

Kats alive, the emergency release!

"Say again, can't make that out."

More shots, this time closer.

The guard dropped the radio and retrieved his spare cuffs from his belt.

"Alright, you stay here, I'll be right back." he spat, cuffing Felix to the bars by his already-bound paws, leaving the cell door ajar. Weapon readied, he made off in the direction of the shooting.

A blaring siren sounded throughout the block, followed by a hundred simultaneous metallic clunks.

"Shit!"

The shouting of the prisoners surged to a new level. Felix felt the rumble of feet in motion across the metallic walkways. Kats were moving, and moving quickly.

Several more shots, mere feet away.

"Hey!" shouted Felix.

A sudden, painful yelp.

"HEY!"

No response. As much as he didn't care for some enforcer guard being snuffed out, he didn't much fancy being chained to his cell with the door wide open during a prison riot. This would very rapidly get out of hand, and then, once the reinforcements made it over from the guard barracks, be very rapidly, and possibly very violently, be brought back under control. Felix had no intention in being caught up in it.

Perhaps if he could attract someone's attention amidst all the chaos, he might be able to make a deal; there was bound to be a familiar face or two in here.

"Ah, Felix van Dekker."

The voice was raspy, the speaker cutting his vowels short and emphasising the hard consonants. It sounded more than a bit unhinged. Felix didn't respond, he simply turned to face the speaker.

The kat was huge, even hunched over as he was, he stood a good six feet. A long mop of mangy hair hung from his head, hiding bright green eyes and a savage, toothy smile.

"What…"

Felix never had time to finish. The giant kat's claws flashed briefly in the artificial lighting of the cell, slashing for his throat.

###### ###### ######

"Daddy, I'm hungry!"

"There's ham and cheese in the fridge, kitty." said Marco, lowering his newspaper and watching his daughter run into the kitchen.

Today was a rare opportunity for Marco to spend some time with her. An all-day staff meeting at her school meant a day off for students, and with Marco simply waiting for the call from Steele, he was unoccupied for the first time in a good while. While the day had been spent mindlessly watching cartoons, he felt uneasy. Steele and his goons knew where this place was, and that they'd have one major bargaining chip over him should it ever come to that.

Uneasy wasn't the right word. Marco felt unsafe.

"Daddy, we're out of bread!"

"You can have a second bowl of cereal if you want."

He heard his daughter's excited cries as she rummaged through the cupboards for her favourite sugar-coated cereal. Marco returned to his newspaper, flicking the page of the real estate section.

" _This place looks nice. Good area, too._ "

The clinking of bowls was suddenly interrupted by a loud smash. Marco jumped up from the couch, tossing his newspaper aside, and bound into the small kitchen.

"Daddy!"

His daughter sat unceremoniously on the tiled floor, shards of broken glass scattered about her.

"Hey," began Marco, "are you ok?"

Tears poured down her cheeks and dripped from her whiskers. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I broke one of your special bowls."

"It's alright," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "it's just a bowl. You didn't cut yourself?"

She shook her head.

He may have reacted differently a week ago. A good portion of their tableware had been a gift from his ex-wife's parents. It held some small sentimental value to him, but more pragmatically, it simply cost money to replace. Marco had impressed upon his daughter the importance of looking after their meager possessions as best he could, although he had perhaps underestimated the strength of attachment a child forms with objects their parents deem important.

Marco hugged his daughter close to his chest and made his way back to the living room. He sat her down in the worn two-seater before squatting down in front.

"Hey, kitty, Daddy has to go to work tonight."

She sniffed back a few tears. "You said that you had a new job."

"I do, I do. It's a good job, but I still have to go away from time to time."

She started to choke up again, fresh tears forming in her eyes. "But, you said we could watch a movie together. I even saved up my pocket money so I could rent something for you!"

Marco felt a lump form in his throat. He hated doing this, but it was necessary. In his experience, the vast majority of reprisal attacks against people in his professional came in the first forty-eight hours. He simply couldn't risk his daughter's safety.

He fumbled his words for a few seconds. "Remember when I said we might be able to move into a nicer place?"

Another nod.

"Well, Daddy's been looking at houses, and he thinks he's found some nice ones. Would you like to come with me on the weekend to see them?"

A smile. "That would be nice."

Marco leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll even make up for tonight, we can go to the megamart afterwards and you can pick out as many movies as you want."

"Really?"

"Of course, kitty. We'll even get a new TV."

A wave of excitement rushed over her face, her ears perking up and eyes going wide.

"Can we get a 3D one?!"

"Sure."

The young kat leaned forwards and hugged her father around the neck. For a moment Marco didn't care in the slightest about Steele or Lorenzo or The Enforcers, he was happy and content just like this. One day he'd have to give this life up. He hoped that by then, he would have seen his daughter through school and college and set her on the path to live her own life. Until that day came, he was stuck with Steele and his cronies.

Father and daughter sat on the couch for the next few hours, the smaller kat happily chewing away on worryingly unhealthy cereal, the only other sound being the endless drone of cartoon re-runs. Marco mused over fetching himself something to drink, but decided against it; drinking prior to a job was unprofessional, not to mention setting a bad example for his daughter.

The doorbell rang.

"Sir," came a muffled voice, "time to go."

" _Sir? Since when was I a sir?_ "

Marco stood up.

"Ok, kitty, Daddy has to work now. I'll tell the babysitter that you can have a bowl of ice-cream after supper, but you have to go to bed on time, school's back on tomorrow."

His daughter pouted ever so slightly. "Ok. Bye-bye."

Marco collected the heavy duffle bag containing his gear from his bedroom before quickly opening his front door, stepping out, and closing it. A trio of heavy-set kats waited on the small landing, coats clearly bulging from hidden weapons.

"Ready to go, sir?"

"Ready boys, let's do this."

###### ###### ######

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD!"

Frank Amato, for twenty years the consigliere of the Lorenzo family, ducked as a bottle of wine sailed over his head, shattering against the wall.

"Sir, please," he spoke, as forcefully as he dared, "calm yourself."

Leo Lorenzo strode up next to him, pointing his finger directly at Frank, his expression full of rage.

"Calm? You think this is time to be calm? Look what that low-life Steele has pulled. Him and that grey-furred bastard, what was his name?

"Marco Gatti, sir."

Lorenzo lowered his voice, spitting out the name with as much contempt as he could muster.

"Gatti."

He paced back and forth several times before turning again to face Frank.

"Amato, I want that kat's head on a plate. Make it messy, this Steele has to know you can't just fuck with us like this!"

"Sir," replied Frank Amato, "if I may, it would be unwise to make a move against a rival caporegime so quickly. We must state our intentions first, voice our grievances."

Another object, this time an ornamental vase, impacted the wall.

"THEY'RE NOT A FAMILY!" screamed Lorenzo, "Steele's just some wannabe gangster thinking he can muscle in on us, and Gatti is just some street thug! We don't show respect to scumbags."

This wasn't working. At this rate, Lorenzo would have them run afoul of Gus Artiglio. His actions were questionable at the best of times, even if he did have the family's best interests in mind. As he currently was, Frank was concerned that he was about to do something very stupid.

"Sir," Frank continued, changing his angle, "if I might remind you, not four months ago you wanted Vincent out of the picture, even if he was your cousin's boy. A bad image, you said, having a cop in the family."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT! I would have taken care of Vincent myself in due course, but this was a family matter. This was our issue to deal with, and ours alone. I don't care who it is or why you did it, you mess with family matters and you're fucked!"

Frank sighed, there was no use continuing at this point. He would perform the duties required of him.

"Ok, sir, what do you want done?"

Lorenzo appeared to calm down slightly at the prospect of revenge. Despite being the head of the family, Frank's opinion and guidance on matters was almost always required before taking action. As consigliere, he was the only kat in the family trusted, indeed expected, to speak his mind at all times.

"You are, of course, right." said Lorenzo, his voice now softer. "We can't hit Steele just yet, but Gatti, he has to go, we need to send a message. Make the call, Frank, I expect it done by this weekend. Just send two of our boys, don't want to upset Gus."

"Of course, sir."

Frank left the room without another word.

Lorenzo made his way across his spacious office to a balcony overlooking the sprawling expanse of Megakat City. He could hear the house staff on the floor below shuffling about, preparing the evening meal for members of his household. Leaning on the parapet, he fished a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and popped one into his mouth. Several armed guards patrolled the villa's extensive grounds, surrounded on all sides by high walls and thick vegetation. Lorenzo closed his eyes and took a deep drag.

Now he just had to figure out what he was going to say to Gus.

###### ###### ######

Jake placed the soldering iron down and wiped his brow. The ventilation system in the hangar was already in need of maintenance; Jake's attempts to start it up had served only to cause it to completely malfunction. And so he was stuck performing modifications to a store-bought quadcopter drone in temperatures pushing ninety degrees.

The hatch to the hanger clunked open, followed by the sound of Chance's heavy footsteps descending the ladder.

"Hey buddy," the large kat said, "how we looking?"

"Just finished up, it's not much, but it should do the job."

Chance inspected his partner's handiwork. Despite his modesty, Jake had once again outdone himself. The small aircraft that they had purchased from a hobby shop for a mere $99 was barely recognisable. Through the addition of extra batteries and the overvolting of the motors, the carry capacity had been increased from a mere half pound to a more usable two pounds. A high definition video camera, IR filter and directional microphone rounded out the recon package. While certainly not capable of taking even a glancing shot from a weapon, it was a nimble little craft, and Jake was confident that he could maneuver it both in and out of tight spots.

"Nice work, ace." said Chance. "Think we'll get what we need with this?"

"Well, if the Lorenzo family is planning a move against The Enforcers, we'll be sure to find something. Guns, maybe. I can't see them marching up to Enforcer Headquarters with only a few pistols. Hopefully we won't need much more than a picture or two. The remote control for this thing is good up to half a mile, but the data streaming from the camera will max out at two hundred feet. We're going to need to be pretty close."

"So say we find something, what then?"

"We let Captain Feral know. She's pretty deep into all this, but her paws are tied at the moment; they'd have already arrested the lot of them if van Dekker had talked. Have you finished with the bikes?"

"All done." replied Chance.

"Great, I didn't much want to take the truck up there, going to look a little out of place in a neighbourhood like that."

"I hear that."

"Well, partner, let's rock n' roll, time to pay this Lorenzo kat a little visit."

###### ###### ######

The vans crawled to a halt some distance up the road from the villa. The lots up here were large, affordable only by the most wealthy kats, with ample vegetation to mask their approach. Two dented and scuffed delivery vans would surely raise suspicion, especially at this hour. They would have to work quickly.

The Lorenzo family villa was ostentatious, even by the already flamboyant standards of the Saint Nivelles Boulevard residences. The only obvious security was a small booth at the gate, staffed by a lone guard. While the uniform suggested a fairly standard private security arrangement, Marco was positive the guard was on the family's payroll. Even from this distance, the two security cameras adorning the wall along the front of the property were clearly visible, providing covering in both directions along the road. There was a near certainty that there would be additional cameras along the perimeter, most likely connected to a security room in the villa proper.

Marco, seated in the front passenger seat of the lead van, turned to face the four kats behind him.

"Alright, boys, here's how we're going to run this. Moore and Jackson, you two take this van and park it up the road, I want you to hit the security booth from the north side. Taylor, Harris and Perez, you're with me. I'm jumping the wall, so I'll need a leg up."

The kats nodded in unison.

"Once I'm in, wait sixty then hit the booth. Get the gate open and hit the front of the villa with the crew in the other van. Moore and Jackson, follow in behind. If we're lucky, we'll keep Lorenzo's boys occupied long enough for me to find him."

One of the three kats Marco had instructed to accompany him cleared his throat.

"Sir," He asked, "what's our play?"

"Easy. Stay out of sight, watch the road. Lorenzo probably has goons around the neighbourhood, they're likely to come running once the shooting starts. Make sure you prepare them a welcome."

Another nod.

"Remember boys, the boss doesn't want anyone from Lorenzo's household to walk away from this. Ears and eyes, let's go!"

Marco inserted his earpiece, clicking his radio over to the correct channel and stepped out of the van. He made a motion to the driver of the rear vehicle to start his engine before dashing across the road, slinking behind a tree. Taylor and company followed closely behind, running up to the south-facing wall of the property, pressing up close to avoid the gaze of the security cameras.

Marco peered out from his hiding place as the second van started its engine.

" _Three cameras on the south side, plenty of cover, should be simple enough._ "

He motioned the 'breach' signal with his paw to the kats against the wall, putting his enforcer training to use for the first time in years. The reply came in the affirmative, and the three kats moved into position.

Ready on the north side, sir.

Marco didn't respond to the radio communication, he had come to trust these kats with such matters, and was confident that they were good and ready to move on his order. He jogged towards the wall and jumped, the kats pushing him upwards until his paws found the top of the wall. Squeezing his shoulders, he pulled himself up and over the top, falling the twelve feet into the lawns to the rear of the villa.

A quick glance around revealed only a single guard in this area, dressed in a smart but loose fitting suit. The distance was thirty feet.

" _No weapons in his paws, that gives me three seconds._ "

Marco dashed across the lawn, not caring if he was seen.

" _Spigot._ "

The gap between the two kats closed to ten feet before the guard noticed his assailant. His paws shot for a bulge in his jacket.

"Hey!"

Too slow. Marco thrust his paw out, grasping the guard by the face and digging his claws in. With a heave, he lifted the kat a clear foot off the ground, using his own momentum to carry them towards the outer wall of the villa. He'd picked his line well, and with a slight grunt, he brought the kat's head smashing down upon the protruding spigot. With a sickening crack the back of the guard's skull burst open, blood gushing out onto the pavement. Marco kept his paw firmly in place over his face, muffling the gurgling sound produced as the guard's lungs emptied themselves of air.

A door opened above.

"Yo, Dominic, you slip or something?

Marco looked up. A narrow balcony extended along the southern side of the building, providing exterior passage from the rooms to the rear of the property's upper floor to those at the front. Without thinking, Marco leapt, using the deceased guard's head, still impaled on the spigot, as a platform to launch himself upwards.

" _Gotcha._ "

The guard on the balcony leaned over just as Marco's paws reached up and seized him by the front of his jacket. Gravity did the rest, and the guard tumbled head-first over the balcony. Marco's free paw shot to his belt, pulling out his knife. As he landed, the slammed the weapon down hilt-first into the pavement, pointing skyward. The guard landed hard, the blade piercing his sternum and severing the aorta. Before he had a chance to grasp at the gaping wound, Marco sprung to his feet, raising his leg and bringing his boot crashing down on his victim's neck, crushing the larynx and several spinal vertebrae, ending any chance he had to sound the alarm.

He thumbed the transmit button on his radio.

"Forty seconds, boys, get ready."

Marco extracted the knife, wiping the blood off before returning it to his belt, and retrieved his pistol. He'd dialed it down significantly since he last used it, now good for thirty shots. In any case, he'd been sure to bring along a few extra power packs, although if he couldn't get the job done on a single charge, he was likely in the wrong business.

A sudden clattering of cans and empty jars came from behind him.

Marco spun about on the spot, raising his pistol and pulling the trigger. The shot caught the maid in the gut, igniting her clothing. She doubled over in pain, falling to her knees and dropping the second of the two garbage bags she had been carrying.

"Shit, sorry babe."

The second shot found her skull.

Sir, is everything ok.

"It's go-time boys!"

An engine revved violently out on the street, followed by a second. If his shots didn't alert the remainder of the guards, this most certainly would. Marco took the opportunity to dart around towards the rear of the villa. A third guard blocked his way as he rounded the corner. Without breaking stride, Marco dropped him with three rapid shots to the chest.

" _Twenty-five left._ "

By now, there was a very definite commotion towards the front of the property. Guards scrambled through the villa to respond to the threat, yelling orders and obscenities. Their voices, however, were instantly drowned out as the second van burst through the gate, crushing a guard in the process. The kat's on board flung the rear door open and unleashed a torrent of fire with their heavy laser rifles, shattering windows and blasting doors from their hinges.

Marco moved along the rear wall until he reached a door. Judging from the smell emanating from the small window set higher in the wall, his guess was that this was a kitchen.

" _Perfect._ "

Pistol raised, Marco opened the door and stepped through.

The blow caught him off guard; he hadn't expected someone to be standing directly in front of the doorway. Despite his reactions, the baseball bat connected with forearm, knocking his pistol free and sending Marco stumbling forward. The cook followed up his first attack with a second swing. This time, however, Marco was prepared. He rolled to the side as the bat crashed into the floor, coming to his feet to face his attacker.

In spite of his predicament, he grinned. His heart thundered in his chest, pumping adrenaline through his veins. This is what he wanted. He wasn't knocking over street gangs or sticking up dealers; this was the real deal. It would have been disappointing to take down one of the most notorious criminal organisations within Megakat City without a bit of a fight.

Marco thrust his arms outward, opening himself up to attack.

"Bring it on!"

The cook charged, bat raised above his head.

" _Stupid._ "

Marco scooped the meat cleaver up from the kitchen bench and dashed forward to meet his attacker. He ducked under the clumsily swung bat, grabbed the front of the cook's apron and sunk the cleaver into the base of his neck. The cook's eyes went wide in shock, his crude weapon clattering to the floor. Marco wrenched the blade free and brought it slicing down a second time.

And then a third.

And a fourth.

The body went limp between the sixth and seventh swing. Marco dropped both knife and corpse and retrieved his pistol.

"Please...I...I...don't…"

So focused had he been that he had completely forgotten about the second cook, now cautiously retreating towards the door.

"Sorry, bud, not your day."

Two quick trigger pulls dropped the cook three feet short of the door.

" _Twenty-three._ "

Riding the the wave of adrenaline, Marco kicked open the kitchen door and burst into the hallway. The sounds of gunfire grew steadily louder as he ran through the villa. It would seem that their attack had been a success, the ground floor was nearly empty of guards, with the few stray housestaff cowering in rooms or alcoves being quickly dispatched by his pistol.

" _Eighteen._ "

Emerging into the large entryway, Marco quickly ducked behind a large cabinet and double-tapped the single remaining guard in the back of the head. He briefly scanned the twin stairways curving their way up to the second floor before punching the transmit button on his radio.

"Entry clear, cease fire and move up."

Wilco, sir.

" _Sixteen._ "

Without waiting for the rest of his crew to move into the building, he cautiously made his way upwards, his aim darting between the shuttered interior windows overlooking the stairway.

" _Nice place._ "

Upon arriving at the top he was greeted by a heavy set of double doors. Almost certainly too heavy to shoot through, Marco attempted the handle.

Locked.

"Open up, Mr Lorenzo!"

"FUCK YOU!"

To be expected, given the nature of his visit. Marco took a few steps back before speaking into his radio.

"Taylor, Perez, bring me some firepower, got a door to bust down."

Sir.

Twenty seconds later a pair of kats jogged up the stairs, each lugging a large rifle.

"This the door?"

"Yeah, overcharge shots, tear it down for me."

The two kats flicked a switch on the charge packs of their rifles and brought them up to their shoulders. A high pitched whining ensured for a fraction of a second before they both unleashed their shots. In a shower of charred splinters the door was blown clear of the frame, landing several feet inside the room.

"Ah, Mr Lorenzo!"

Leo Lorenzo sat behind his desk, clutching a small pistol, his face contorted in pure, undiluted rage. To his right stood an elderly kat, his own expression of calmness contrasting Lorenzo's.

"Please," said Marco, "put the gun down, you're done."

Lorenzo didn't budge. "What do you want."

Marco simply tapped his right paw to his left wrist and pointed at Lorenzo. Perez and Taylor raised their rifles in unison and took aim, teaching firing a single shot, taking the mobster's paw off at the wrist. Lorenzo screamed and recoiled backwards, falling from his chair as he clutched the smoldering stump.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Marco walked forward, keeping his pistol trained on the elderly kat.

"Now, Mr Lorenzo, normally I'd be in the mood for a chat, but Mr Steele can't have you making a mess of things."

"Wait, wait!" gasped Lorenzo, "I'm sorry, please apologise to Mr Steele for me. Vincent meant nothing, I was going to kill him myself."

"Really? And why might that be?"

The wounded kat pulled himself to a sitting position, slumping against his desk.

"Ok, ok, we were planning to use him as an informant in The Enforcers, but he turned us down, didn't want anything to do with his family, said he was going to make a living on his own."

Marco scoffed. Enforcer pay was atrocious and, if his family were anything to go by, Vincent should have been easily swayed by money. Perhaps there had been more to him that Marco had gathered from their encounter in the alley.

"Wait a minute…"

Marco kicked the bloodied and charred pistol away before crouching down next to Lorenzo, jamming his own weapon into his rib cage.

"You mentioned informants in the Enforcers." he said. "Tell me about them."

Silence.

"Now, Mr Lorenzo, you don't want this to get messy, do you? Your boys didn't put up much of a fight, I can't imagine you're all that tough either."

He removed the pistol from Lorenzo's ribs and pointed it at the elderly kat. In spite of the threat, his expression remained completely blank.

"You there, help your boss. He's trying to be useful, but I think he's having trouble remembering the details."

Lorenzo looked up. His eyes locked with his long time consigliere, a slight sadness washing over his face.

"Do it, Frank. Just give him what he wants."

"Sir, I don't think…"

"I've had enough. Fuck Steele, fuck Gus Artigelo, fuck this whole damn city. And fuck you, Gatti."

Frank Amato sighed, about faced and made his way over to one of the many bookshelves adorning the office. He rummaged through a drawer before producing a small, bound notebook.

"Here you are, Mr Gatti, names, contact numbers and addresses. Should be extremely helpful for Mr Steele. Do give him our regards."

"I will."

He nodded to Taylor and Perez.

"Boys."

The sight of his consigliere body being riddled by a fusillade of laser fire was the last thing that Leo Lorenzo saw before his skull exploded in a superheated cloud of blood, bone and brain matter.

" _Less than half, not too shabby!_ "

###### ###### ######

"Kat's alive, what was that?"

Jake and Chance had spent the better part of half an hour in the dirt, covered with branches in an attempt to stay hidden from the chaos erupting around them. They had waited a full ten minutes after the last shot sounded before moving. The Enforcers would undoubtedly be on their way, and having already been caught up in one incident, a repeat would look just a little too suspicious.

"No idea, buddy." replied Jake. "Mob war? Seems strange that Lorenzo would cop it so soon after van Dekker was caught. Doesn't make sense."

Chance pulled his motorcycle out from its hiding place behind a low row of hedges.

"We better get this to Felina, she'll want to see what we got."

"We didn't get much. said Jake. "I didn't see those kats hiding along the wall, drone only got thirty seconds worth before they took it out."

"Anything useful?"

"Maybe."

From what little he had seen, it seemed too well executed, too professional to be a simple mob dispute. He hadn't heard of anything so overt taking place in Megakat City's criminal underworld, they typically preferred a more subtle, albeit still violent, approach.

"Anyway, we can't stay around here. No time to retrieve the drone. Shouldn't be a problem though, it's all store bought stuff."

The faint sound of sirens grew steadily louder in the distance. Jake picked up his own bike and the pair of kats took off for the salvage yard.

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
Back from Melbourne and delivering some action with this chapter! I may have gone a bit overboard with the violence and the language, but I felt it fit the characters (Lorenzo at least), and the scene. If you think it's a bit out of place, or if it's not the sort of thing you like to read, let me know, I always appreciate constructive criticism.

I have four chapters planned out, the next one might be a little shorter, but I hope to get it out quickly. After that, though, I've got something big coming, so stay tuned!

In unrelated news, Melbourne was awesome. Hammerfall melted my face off, they were absolutely incredible, most energetic gig I've been to, on par with Sabaton. Just walking around the city gave me some ideas for the composition of scenes in future chapters, so we'll see how that plays out.

As always, thanks! You guys rock!  
-AR


	10. Chapter 9 - By the Book

" _This is Ann Gora, Katseye News. Enforcer officials have publicly stated that both the massacre of the Lorenzo crime family in Megakat Hills and yesterday's riot at Alkatraz Penitentiary are connected to an ongoing investigation. Among the seven inmates killed during the riot was Felix van Dekker, currently awaiting trial for his role in the recent attack on the memorial service held for deceased enforcer Vincent D'Angelo. Van Dekker was among three arrested during the attack, and had been considered the sole lead in the investigation. The cause of the riot, which also claimed the lives of three prison guards, is currently unknown. In other news, Megakat Savings suffered its third major network security breach in as many months, and the largest to date. A spokeskat revealed that some five thousand accounts, totaling over eighty million in deposits, may have been affected. He went on to say that…_ "

Feral switched off the TV and turned to face his niece.

"This," he began, "is getting out of control."

"Sir, if I may…"

He raised his paw and cut her off.

"Before we continue, I want you to know that I don't consider this to be your fault. However, it is your investigation, and I'm going to need an explanation."

Felina nervously shifted her weight. Her uncle's forehead was wrinkled in intense frustration, the veins on his forehead bulging, visible even beneath his fur. She could tell he was doing his utmost to maintain his professional demeanor, maintain his calm.

" _He's not going to take this well._ "

She cleared her throat.

"Sir, Felix van Dekker was our only lead. The other two we arrested are street thugs, nobodies, we don't have a lot to work with here."

Her uncle sighed.

"But," she continued, "that might tell us something itself. It's a little suspicious that the Lorenzo family gets taken out like this, just when we arrest and lock up one of their goons."

Feral's face remained twisted in displeasure.

"Go on."

"Ok, so mob wars are nothing new, but not like this, the timing is too convenient. My idea, sir, is that the Lorenzo family moved against us, upset the wrong kats, and got taken out. Van Dekker was just a loose end. But…"

"Van Dekker knew nothing." interrupted Feral. "Why would they bother? Better to leave the scumbag to rot in prison."

"Perhaps someone is making a statement?"

"They already did. The function centre is still in ruins, unless you've forgotten.

Felina winced. Her uncle was testing her, and she was failing.

"Sir," she retorted, "it might be than van Dekker was in the dark, but someone still felt he needed to be taken out. Our theory up until this point was that the murder of Vincent D'Angelo and Artie Ross, as well as the attack on the memorial service, has been the work of an ex-enforcer. Van Dekker's involvement points to the Lorenzo family but…"

"But Leo Lorenzo was never an Enforcer." said Feral, completing her sentence.

Felina winced again. Strike two.

"Uncle, I think we're looking at a new player in Megakat City. Someone has come in, upset the power balance of the mob families and took out Lorenzo to show that they mean business."

"Ok, Felina, so who are we chasing, I need something more than speculation."

" _Here we go…_ "

She cleared her throat again. "Sir, I do have one other lead. We... recovered some video footage from the Lorenzo villa. Not much, but we've got a few frames of a parked utility van, not the sort of thing you'll find up in Megakat Hills that time of day."

"The forensics report says that Lorenzo's cameras didn't show anything, the creep wiped the data right before they offed him."

"This wasn't from Lorenzo's cameras."

"Then who was... please tell me you're joking."

Felina grinned sheepishly.

"If those two vigilante crooks show their faces," said Feral, slamming his fist down, "arrest them!"

"Sir!"

###### ###### ######

The wind whipped up at her, plastering her hair across her face and drying the fresh tears that streamed down her cheeks.

The past few days had felt like months. Bereavement leave had been out of the question; The Enforcers would show little to no sympathy in light of her breach of regulations. As she hadn't been a direct participant in the events at the memorial service, she wasn't even entitled to counseling sessions. Felina had pulled a few strings for her, but the best she'd been able to do was two weeks of leave without pay. Still, in her current condition, it was better than working.

Abigail Sharpe was a wreck.

She'd woken up feeling, for the first time in days, relatively normal. A morning walk had been on the cards, and her mood had lasted right up to the point she stopped for a coffee. It was the small things, a smell or sight, perhaps a sound, that brought painful thoughts to the forefront of her mind. The coffee shop owner had been kind enough to call her a taxi so she could return home, but it was of little use, she simply ran. And kept running.

Sometimes she would erupt into a bout of anger, smashing or throwing something in her small apartment. She wanted someone to blame, someone to point the finger at and vent her anguish. This was all someone's fault, why couldn't she have the simple satisfaction of knowing who?

It was pointless; none of this would bring Artie back.

"Ma'am, are you ok?"

The voice caused her to jump a little. She was in plain view, but hadn't expected many kats to be crossing the bridge this early. Certainly, there'd be a one or two, but she didn't intend to stay here for long. No sense in causing a scene.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just getting some air." she replied without turning around.

"Uh, do you want me to call someone, it's not safe up there."

"No, please, I'm fine."

The thirty second good samaritan said no more and walked away.

" _Probably has more important things to do._ "

Another gust of wind hit her. Abby started to feel giddy; her head swam and she couldn't help but chuckle a little. Release wasn't far away, just a single step.

Her heart pounded.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, stepping out with her right foot.

BZZZZT

The bizarre serenity of the scene was shattered by her cell phone, crackling to life and buzzing against her leg. Out of habit, she reached down and answered it."

"Hello?"

Hi, Abby, sorry to bother you.

"Fel-fel?"

Yeah. Hey, I know it's… are you driving, it sounds like a hurricane on your end.

Abby tucked the phone against her shoulder, shielding it from the wind.

"Ah, I'm j-just out for a walk, couldn't sleep."

Well, at least I didn't wake you. Hey, I know you're having some time off and all, but I need a favour.

"Wh...what do you need?"

Well, it's probably not something I should ask, it's not exactly by-the-book.

"That's my Fel-fel."

Ha, on duty or not, you're still talking to a superior officer. Anyway, I might have something on the van Dekker case, but I'm going to need someone to have a look around.

"You mean spy?"

Well, my uncle won't issue a warrant unless I give him something solid. As much as I'd like to, I can't just go kicking down doors and asking questions, but there's nothing to stop a private citizen from having a quick peek. Just don't go breaking any laws!

"Ok, s-sounds like fun, where am I going?"

Not sure yet, Ravi is just double checking. Why don't you come and meet me on the corner of fifth, just down from headquarters, I'll buy you breakfast, cream cheese and tuna bagel.

"Sure thing, Fel-fel, I'm on my way."

Thanks, I owe you!

Abby released her grip on the cable and jumped down from the railing. Replacing her phone and zipping up her windbreaker, she made her way back across Old Megakat Bridge and towards the city.

###### ###### ######

"Ok Chance, number two turbine start."

An electric whine briefly sounded from the rightmost engine of the Turbokat before the gut-wrenching sound of mechanical gears grinding and some half a gallon of unburned jet fuel shot from the exhaust.

"Crud!"

"No luck?"

Jake threw his torque wrench to the hangar floor in frustration. The two mechanics had been at it for over ten hours, and were reaching the limits of their mental endurance. Jake's initial suspicions that their jet would need engine and electrical work, along with control surface calibrations had proven to be correct, and then some.

Far from a simple clean, the entire starter assembly on two of the three engines had failed. The problem was likely a combination of electrical component degradation, mechanical seizures and simple wear and tear. Not an easy fix.

"So what's the sitrep, can we fly?" asked Chance, jumping down from the cockpit.

"Technically, yes." replied Jake. "We can start the first engine, then use bleed air to get number two running, but…"

"But what?"

"But both turbines in number one engine are off balance and the engine seals are damaged. We can start it here on the ground, but once in the air, we either run at maximum afterburner or we run it on half power and risk a flameout."

"Can we run on one engine?"

Jake ran his paw along the exhaust nozzle of the Turbokat center engine.

"We could." he continued. "I used heavier turbine blades in engine three so we can run higher afterburner rpm's, it should run just fine if we get it started, but we won't be able to do an engine restart if anything goes wrong."

"How long for a fix?"

"Two weeks, maybe three, but I'll need the parts ASAP. Up for some junkyard digging?"

"Ten-four, buddy."

###### ###### ###### 

"Ravi, please please please tell me that you've got something."

Felina flung the door to the IT department open. She hadn't logged the SWAT Kat's footage as evidence; her uncle would have seized it for any potential case against the two vigilantes, and she'd be left with nothing. Ravi, however, could be trusted to be a bit more discrete.

"Hang on, Captain Feral, I...NO...NO YOU BLOODY IDIOT! IS YOUR FRONT PAD TEN FEET WIDE?!"

"Ravi?"

The small kat swiveled away from the small TV.

"I'm sorry, Captain Feral, I was just watching… well, it's the world cup."

Felina crossed her arms. "Didn't I already let you go home early so you could watch that crazy sport?"

"Yes, I know, I'm very sorry Captain Feral, but a billion kats will be watching this match back home, I cannot miss out!"

"Ravi…" Felina furrowed her brow.

"Alright, Captain Feral."

Ravi switched the TV off before rolling himself over towards his terminal. A few quick keystrokes and the screen flickered to life.

"I have something for you."

"Please tell me it's good news."

"It is! The video file you gave me was good quality, it shows one of the vans with plates. But…"

"...but they're fake." said Felina. It was to be expected, no-one in their right mind would run a job like this if something a simple as their licence plate could give them away.

"Exactly! But we can still get something out of this! Those SWAT Kats were smart enough to use a colour camera, most security footage is still in black and white, saves on storage space."

"So?"

"So, Captain Feral, that means we can tell what sort of van it is. See that, it's not the best angle, but that's a metallic blue Freightrunner XL, probably seven or eight years old."

Felina leaned over Ravi's shoulder. Sure enough, the van was perfectly visible in the still frame, colour and all.

"Ok, good work so far, but what do we do without plates?"

"Easy." continued Ravi. "The MKDMV keeps records of model type and vehicle colour in its licence registration database. There might be a lot of these vans in the city, but how many kats do you think have two of this exact colour registered to them?"

Felina patted Ravi on the back. "Good job, kid! I'll talk to my uncle and we'll get a…"

Ravi grinned. "Please, don't worry yourself about it, Captain Feral. I learned from the best, I already checked their database; their network security was not very good."

Felina laughed, she was rapidly becoming a bad influence.

"What did you find?"

"Ok, so of the seven thousand Freightrunner vans in the city, only four hundred are in metallic blue, and there are only two cases where multiple vans are registered to the same place. We've got a small farm just out of the city limits with three of them, and four more registered to a warehousing company."

"Anything interesting about the farm?" asked Felina.

"Not really, meat and dairy, owned by a larger agricultural firm."

"And the warehouse?"

"Ah, yes, I had a look. South Megakat Logistics, business is registered t Tugger. No criminal record, good credit rating, not even a single speeding ticket against any of his vehicles."

"Excellent work."

The difficult part would be convincing her uncle to give her a warrants. With van Dekker gone, this was the best lead they had. No doubt he'd ask how she had obtained the vehicle information without sending a data search request to the MKDMV, and she'd be in for another chewing out for skirting about regulations again.

But results were results.

"Ravi," she continued, "double check for me, if it's all legit, I'll send someone over there to have a quick look, I'd like to know what we're charging into here."

"Of course, Captain Feral."

She couldn't, however, send just anyone. A patrol car would tip them off. They'd been several steps ahead so far, no doubt they'd thought of this possibility too. She'd ask the SWAT Kats, but they'd set off even more alarm bells. She could always go herself but…

Felina punched the quick dial on her cell phone.

Hello?

"Hi, Abby, sorry to bother you."

###### ###### ######

"Good afternoon sir, do you have a reservation?"

"No. I'm meeting someone here."

"If you give me their name, I'll be happy to let them know that you've arrived."

"Uh, I don't actually know their name."

The maître d' looked quizzically at Marco. Walking into such an establishment dressed as he was already enough to get himself turned away; not knowing his contact's name was downright suspicious.

"I see, and you are?" he asked.

"Marco Gatti, I'm expected."

"Can you describe the kat you are meeting, Mr Gatti?"

The last word dripped with more than a little contempt.

"Yeah, he's plain white," said Marco, ignoring the slight, "you can't miss him."

The waiter's eyes lit up.

"My apologies, sir, right this way."

" _About time._ "

Why Steele had sent him to meet a contact in such a place was beyond him. Certainly, he understood that kats like Artiglio and Steele might appreciate such things, spending their time and money on luxuries and other frivoloties, but Marco wasn't like that. Thirty grand a month aside, he'd much prefer a bar, or even just a run-of-the-mill family restaurant. Places like this weren't for him.

All that said, there was no denying that it had a certain charm about it. Aging wood paneling adorned the walls; kats were seated at tables in private booths, discussing business matters and sipping wine that retailed for five hundred dollars a bottle. The lighting was low, keeping the booths dark and casting dull shadows.

"Here we are, sir, please call if you require anything."

"Thanks."

The snow white kat wordlessly eyed Marco as he took his seat in the booth. His fur was far too white to be natural, yet it showed none of the telltale signs of chemical bleaching. His eyes were almost as pale, although they retained a hint of their original green colouring.

" _Green eyes..._ "

Steele had mentioned to him that one of Artiglio's kats was an "old buddy" of his. Marco could remember anyone quite so tall and slender, but those eyes, there was something about them. A job somewhere, something that got out of control, got messy, just when the family's were vying for control after Katscratch's untimely demise.

" _That job, we had a few ex-cops on it…_ "

It suddenly hit Marco, his memories flooding back in an instant. Leaning forward, he spoke, half remembering, half guessing the kat's name.

"It's been a while, Lev."

The white kat answered without blinking, his accent thick, with only the occasional verbal tick suggested that he had spent the past ten years in Megakat City.

"Marco, I'm flattered that you remember me, but I must confess, I was not expecting your presence here. If memory serves, we hardly left each other's company on amicable terms."

"Did you expect Steele to send one of his regular thugs?"

Lev tilted his head slightly. "The thought had crossed my mind, although I dismissed it as being unlikely. Mr Steele seems adamant about asserting himself as a genuine participant in our operations here. I anticipated a kat of some standing, I simply wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, well I'm surprised too.

"Please, Marco, let's let bygones be bygones. We both had our service with The Enforcers terminated in unfavourable circumstances, and we both adapted as best we could. As fortune would have it, that led us both to that rather unfortunate job."

"Unfortunate," scoffed Marco, "I remember three of our guys getting whacked, the dealer running off with our product, and me ending up with a lousey hundred bucks for my troubles."

"Then you'll recall that I wasn't paid at all." replied Lev.

"I do." said Marco, his voice softening a little. "I guess in the mess left behind after Katscratch got taken out, paying small time crooks like us didn't seem so important."

"It would also seem that you took it upon yourself to remain a...small time crook, at least until recently."

"Well, I heard that when that job went south, you took off with Dark Kat's crew."

"Indeed, I did. Small time, as you so aptly put it, simply didn't suit me."

" _Crazy bastard._ "

Marco waved his paw at a passing waiter.

"Something strong, please." he said. "No ice."

"At once, sir."

He turned back towards Lev. "Anything for you?"

Lev shook his head. "No, thank you, I don't partake."

"Suit yourself. Anyway, what's the deal with all this," asked Marco, motioning his paw up and down in front of his body, "how did you end up so… white?"

For the first time, the white kat's expression changed, his ears drooping ever so slightly, a tiny hint of sadness in his eyes."

"It's not something I feel the need to discuss in unfamiliar company, as old an acquaintance as you may be. Suffice to say that working in with Dark Kat, one must endure certain...hardships."

"I see." said Marco. "Well, Dark Kat hasn't been seen in years, how did you end up with Artiglio?"

Lev's expression returned to it's usual, neutral state.

"It was in fact a direct consequence of my time with Dark Kat that I came to be in the employ of Mr Artiglio." he said. "Personal costs notwithstanding, one does acquire unique skills in such a line of work, skills which Mr Artiglio feels are a sound financial investment on his part."

"Sounds like something from a movie."

"Quite."

The waiter returned, carrying a small glass on a tray which he delicately deposited in front of Marco.

"Please enjoy, this one's on the house."

"Thanks, but I'm not sure I understand, you said it's on the house?"

"Yes." replied the waiter, smiling warmly. "Mr Artiglio wants all his guests to be well taken care of. If you'll excuse me."

Without another word, the kat about-faced and left.

"I guess this is one of Gus's joints?" said Marco.

"Correct. Mr Artiglio manages a number of establishments across the city. He extended an invitation to Mr Steele to send a representative to discuss upcoming matters, and felt it would be unbecoming of a kat of his position to not play the part of host. With that in mind, Marco, I must insist that we discuss business matters. While I do relish the opportunity to reminisce with you, I am expected to represent certain interests at this meeting, and to do so in a timely fashion. I'm certain that Mr Steele expects the same of you."

"Sure, sure. Look, I know we sorted most of it out at the meeting at Megakat Grand, but we've come across some useful information since then. We can make this ten times bigger than we first imagined!"

Lev tilted his head again. "You're of course referring to the identities of Leo Lorenzo's informants within the Enforcers."

Marco's heart skipped a beat.

"I...I…"

"Marco, please do not be alarmed. Mr Artiglio is aware of your actions against the Lorenzo family. While unorthodox, he recognises the unique opportunity that Mr Steele had provided him, and is willing to overlook such incidents. Leo Lorenzo's participation was never required, his premature demise changes our current circumstances very little. Naturally, Mr Artiglio knew of the extensive network of informants that the Lorenzo's controlled, but felt that apart from this small advantage, Leo Lorenzo possessed neither the weight of numbers, nor the financial clout to pose a noteworthy threat. From that, and the impressively competent manner in which you executed your attack, he concluded that this information had found its way to Mr Steele. I am correct?"

"Yeah, spot on."

"So tell me," continued Lev, "what can Mr Artiglio do to facilitate the removal of Calico Briggs from office?"

Marco leaned in again, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Lev, do you still remember how to drive a tank?"

###### ###### ###### 

Author's Notes:  
A shorter chapter, I know, and perhaps a little dialogue heavy. Nine chapters in and I still feel that my dialogue is a little on the weak side. Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

I don't want to sound like a broken record here, but I have to thank you guys again for reading my stuff. Every month I've had Counterplay up on the site has been better than the last; I had more views and comments halfway through October than the entirety of September. Thank you, thank you, thank you! My number one concern here is that you guys are enjoying the story.

Because you guys have been so awesome, I'm going to go ahead with a couple of other story ideas I've had floating around in my head and make Counterplay the first of a trilogy. There will be an overall plot, but each part will still be a self-contained story. I can't make any promises regarding the timeframe of this; I've only just started with Counterplay, but hopefully it will keep me busy (and you guys happy) for a while.

On a more sombre note, there is something I feel the need to mention, because I have used it as a theme and I know a lot of people find it uncomfortable. Suicide is a very real problem and I absolutely do not want to make light of it or cause anyone any undue stress over it. It is an especially concerning problem for members of the police force and armed services, both current and former, something I feel very strongly about. With that said, it is not something that I want to shy away from either. Yes, this is just a fanfic and it's hardly serious literature, but if I can draw even a little attention to this issue through my writing, then perhaps I have done some good. Again though, it is absolutely not my intention to upset anyone over this. Please do let me know if you have any concerns.

Stay safe.

-AR


	11. Chapter 10 - Showdown: Part 1

Callie had made a bit of a game of it.

It had started some months ago when she had finally convinced Feral to provide her with a security escort so that she might take morning jogs through Megakat Park. Feral, ever conscious about security, had assigned four of his finest. At first, they barely needed to break from a brisk walk to keep up with the she-kat. A month later and they would be jogging while she ran. Each morning she would be a little faster than the last, a little fitter.

Her first victory in this game, if it could even be called that, had come a week ago. After pushing herself for an extra lap of the park, she had noticed two of her detail breathing rather heavily, the slightest hint of sweat glistening on their foreheads. In the days that followed, their fatigue had become increasingly obvious. First the third, and finally, two days ago, the last of her detail he been left panting and sweating at the end of her run.

This morning, they had seemingly resigned themselves to their fate, and donned running gear, wearing baggy track tops to conceal their sidearms. Her second victory.

" _Ha!_ "

Calie sprinted the final hundred yards to the park exit, arriving at the large wrought iron gates thoroughly spent. Bent over and gasping for breath, she glanced at her watch.

" _Forty one twenty two, ninety seconds faster than yesterday!_ "

Her effort was starting to pay off. Her legs were noticeably more toned than before, her stomach that little bit flatter. It had been difficult at first, pushing her mid thirties had meant having to take better care of herself; the days of eating what she wanted without fear of gaining weight had slipped away. A few months of routine exercise, however, had left her feeling as youthful as ever.

"Hey! Deputy Mayor!"

Of course, try as she might, she wasn't even in the same league as Commander Feral's niece.

Felina Feral, clad in her standard-issue enforcer PT gear, ran down the sidewalk towards the deputy mayor and her security detail. Callie had crossed paths with her several times during the past month, typically watching her bolt past at a pace that for her would be a sprint.

"Ah, good morning, Captain Feral."

The kats of her security detail, showing obvious signs of fatigue, snapped off half-hearted salutes as Felina pulled up sharply next to the Deputy Mayor.

"Still finding time in the mornings? I would have guessed that Manx would have you up to your ears in work."

Callie slumped into a nearby bench.

"He does," she said, taking a gulp from her water bottle. "he's got a press conference later today, and I'm stuck writing his speech."

"What's the occasion?"

Callie glanced about. "I probably shouldn't spill this, but he's set to announce a two hundred million dollar increase to Enforcer funding for next year's budget."

Felina almost choked on her own water.

"Two hundred million?! I thought Manx was a real penny-pincher, where did this one come from?"

Callie grinned smugly. "Let's just say it wasn't entirely his idea."

Felina sat down next to the other she-kat.

"I'm impressed, Callie, how did you manage to get that one past him?"

"I made it clear to him that your uncle was most insistent, Manx has always been a little intimidated by him, no harm in pulling a few of those strings."

It was Felina's turn to smile. True enough, her uncle had a rather direct manner when dealing with politicians, but it rarely resulted in anything resembling a useful outcome. Callie, however, seemed to know how to play both sides.

"What's in all this for you?" she asked, slightly abashedly.

Callie's smile disappeared.

"I don't mind telling you," she started, "but I'm worried, the city is worried. Whatever's going on, it doesn't seem like it's going away. I know you and your uncle are doing your best, but the kats of this city need something to point their fingers at and blame. I hate to say it, but they need a bad guy."

"Well, we had one, look what happened to him."

"I know."

"I hear what you say, though." said Felina. "We're supposed to be the good guys, but kats are starting to question if we can do our jobs. This is starting to get dangerous, and we don't have a lot to go on."

"Surely you have something."

"Maybe."

Felina picked herself up from the bench and stretched out her calf muscles a few times, adjusting her sweat bands with her paws.

"Good to see you, Callie, but my uncle will have my tail if I'm late. I'm sorry I don't have better news, we're not in the business of performing miracles down at headquarters."

"I know you'll manage somehow."

Felina took off at a brisk pace, jogging a dozen yards before suddenly stopping and turning back towards Callie.

"Hey, I can't give you a bad guy, but I might be able to go one better. Two better, actually."

"Two what?"

"Two heroes."

###### ###### ######

Steele's paws trembled. Everything had gone so smoothly, far more so than he had ever anticipated. He hadn't expected to get this far; his plans, his ambitions were coming to fruition before his eyes. It was perhaps because of this ludicrous run of luck that he had been unable to shake a constant feeling of unease; that disaster was just around the corner. Still, all his preparations up to this point suggested that today would be no different.

"Are you there?"

Steele typed the words into the instant messenger client on the aging terminal at his desk. Marco, along with the bulk of his 'employees' were out, linking up with members of the Megakat City crime families in preparation for the day's operation. Having already given his receptionist the day off, he was the only one in the warehouse.

Yet he was still nervous. Steele had kept his communication with his mysterious contact strictly confidential; no-one else knew, a state of affairs he intended to maintain. It had been easy, simple communication back and forth between him and a variety of e-mail addresses, each time using a different provider. Inconspicuous, hard to trace.

So when the request had come for real-time communication, Steele began to worry.

[I half expected you to refuse my offer.]

The words flashed up on his screen.

"We're in deep now, no turning back from here."

[Of course not. You've done very well, colour me impressed. I hope my assistance has been useful.]

"It has."

[You must have questions.]

Indeed, Steele had hundreds of questions he wanted to ask. It would of course be stupid to do so, coming across as excessively curious rarely ended well for kats in his position. There was, however, one question he couldn't help but put forward.

"I do. I have to ask why. Why are you doing all this?"

The response took some time.

[Let's just say that I'm in a bit of a difficult situation, but it appears that someone is looking out for me. This someone has taken an interest in your activities, and has asked me to help you along.]

"Someone else? Just how far up does this chain go?"

[Far enough, and you're not the only one, so don't start thinking you're special.]

Steele knew better than the push the issue.

"What do you expect to happen now? That information you provided certainly helped, we're making our move today."

[Yes, I thought it might, glad to see you putting it to good use. That stunt with van Dekker is about as hard as I'm willing to go, but I might have a trick to two left up my sleeve. Today should be fun.]

"I have to say, this isn't really what I had in mind."

[That doesn't matter, if you want the money to keep flowing, you'll do what you're told. Our mutual friend doesn't care if you want to tear up half the city on your own little personal vendetta, but he does need you to do a few things for him along the way. Something big is coming, and if you can't be trusted to do your part, we'll find someone else.]

"I know, you've told me before."

[Glad to hear it. The Enforcers are going to step up after this, they're going to come after you, so you best be on the move. I hope you've got a plan, that little warehouse of yours is going to be found.]

Steele chuckled to himself. Whoever this kat was, they didn't know much about police work. The ringleader never got found out; in all his years as an enforcer, he'd seen only a single mob boss arrested.

"Don't you worry about that, something tells me the Enforcers will have something more important to worry about than me, I'll make sure they're kept busy."

[Don't do anything stupid.]

"Trust me."

[A bit rich, coming from you. Anyway, my time is almost up here, they'll be checking up on me soon. I only asked for this little chat because I have a personal favour to ask. It's not much, I'm sure you can handle it.]

"Sure thing."

[It's embarrassing, but I've had a little problem. Someone at Enforcer Headquarters has been spoiling my fun. I'll send you their details, take care of them for me.]

"I thought you said you were the best?"

[I am the best, no-one stops me!]

###### ###### ######

"Good morning, Captain Feral!"

"Mornin' Ravi, how's… geez louise! Have you been here all night?"

Ravi smiled wearily at Felina, eyelids drooping, his fur scruffy and unkempt. She had expected him to be in early, as he usually was, but this was a little extreme. All-nighters were naturally part of the Enforcer experience, but when not directly assigned to a case, it was usually taken as an opportunity to be home at a reasonable hour.

Ravi stretched.

"Yes, I have." he said. "Sorry, Captain Feral, but I just didn't trust anyone else here."

"Trust them with what."

"We've had more network incursions, and they're getting harder and harder to stop. I still don't know what they're after, but I've been doing some digging around."

"Yes," replied Felina, her voice full of eagerness, "go on."

"Ok, so you remember, Captain Feral, when we first had these attacks, whoever was doing it didn't try very hard to cover their tracks. Well, it turns out they did, those first attempts were just there to throw me off, but I found something. Someone had installed a virtual machine in one of our servers."

"Virtual machine?"

"It's a computer within a computer, something that looks like a separate machine from the outside. Anyway, Captain Feral, I missed it after first because it hadn't done anything, but since then, it made one remote request."

Felina tilted her head. "What did it do?"

"It tripped the alarms on Alkatraz. Not the just central alarm, all of them. Every fire alarm on the island at once. The master release automatically triggered as a response."

Felina slumped down into her chair. It was almost a given that the riot on Alkatraz had been setup to take out van Dekker, but they were yet to establish a method or even identify a suspect. Ravi's information was beginning to reveal the extent to which their opponents were outwitting them.

She swiveled around a few times before coming to face Ravi again.

"So, how do we handle this?"

"Well, Captain Feral, I do have some good news. The virtual machine had been in place for a few weeks before the riot. I doubt it was setup with the intention of tripping the alarm, nobody could have known that van Dekker would end up in jail. I guessed that someone put it there as an insurance policy, which lead me to think that there might be more."

"And are there?"

"Yes, lots. Several hundred of them, Captain Feral."

Felina sighed, rubbing her paws over her face. "And how is this good news?"

"Please," replied Ravi, his voice taking on a sudden air of confidence, "you know me better than that! I've removed almost all of them. I've left some of the more hidden ones in place, now that I've got a better handle on what's happening, I might be able to trace any network activity attempting to access the machines."

"Thanks Ravi, that's one thing taken care of, I hope."

"We'll get there, Captain Feral."

Felina spent the next few minutes simply staring at the wall. At this rate, she'd have to put in a request to have Ravi transferred to her command; she was relying on his skills more and more. Of course, the kats at the data centre would complain that they needed him more, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that their problems and her case were closely linked.

"Captain Feral?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is everything ok?"

Felina tore her attention away from the wall.

"No, not really." she said. "What do we do here, Ravi? What would you do?"

"Captain Feral, I'm not sure if…"

"Just...tell me, hit me with something. Anything."

Ravi glanced about the room nervously. The rest of Felina's staff were yet to arrive; it was just him and the she-kat. She had always encouraged them to speak their mind, and it would seem that this was no exception. He had been musing over a particular piece of information for several days now, and he figured it was as good a time as any to bring it up.

"Captain Feral, if I was you, I'd get warrants for that farm and the warehouse. We have to move quickly."

"Already tried." came the reply. "My uncle wouldn't have any of it, wasn't exactly happy about how we went about getting that information from the MKDMV. I had someone check it out anyway, took a video with her cell phone, nothing. Just a farm, just a warehouse."

"Anything else I can do?"

Felina smiled weakly. "Feel like breaking the law again?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

Ravi pulled open a drawer and shuffled about inside with his paws, producing a single piece of paper. Folding it in half, he passed it across his desk to Felina.

"Remember when you told me about your late night phone call from the SWAT Kats?"

"That was over a week ago, but go on."

Apart from the disk containing the video footage in her mailbox, she hadn't heard from them for the past ten days. Given what had happened with the Lorenzo family, she suspected that the SWAT Kats had hit the same roadblock that she had.

"Ok, Captain Feral," continued Ravi, "so you mentioned that one of them was injured."

"Not injured." said Felina. "T-Bone just said that Razor's leg needed to be patched up."

"Yes! And you then told me the next day that you found a small amount of blood on the razor wire, right where it had been cut. Sounds like an injury to me."

"I guess, hardly serious though."

"Perhaps not, Captain Feral, but I thought I'd look into it."

Felina laughed. "You're not about to tell me that you've been able to match bloodwork from a tiny splatter to our database, are you?"

Ravi shook his head. "No, nothing like that, but I did check Megakat Memorial and Megakat Civic's admissions records; their security is even worse than the MKDMV's. My guess was that a wound like that would need stitches."

Felina sat bolt upright in her chair, her eyes going wide.

"Woah! Hold it there, Ravi, you hacked into a hospital patient database to find…are you...are you about to tell me what I think you are?"

"I'll leave that up to you, Captain Feral." he replied, motioning to the folded paper.

Felina turned it over in her paws. This was unbelievable, insane even, surely nothing would come of this. It couldn't.

"What makes you think whatever you've got here in useful?" she asked, unsure if she wanted to know or not.

"Normally, it wouldn't be. Plenty of kats are admitted with leg wounds each day, there are about sixty names on that list. One name though, well, see for yourself."

"Ok, Ravi, before I look at this, you have to understand what you're getting into. My uncle, you know what he's like, if he got any word of this…."

"I know."

"Ok then."

Felina flipped open the piece of paper. Names, addresses, social security numbers, it was all there. Any kat admitted to either of Megakat City's two major hospitals with a leg wound was listed. She scanned the list, her eyes sweeping over each name carefully, as if taking her time may jog her memory. The idea that one of these names might mean something, that she might recognise one of these kats, was still an absurd thought.

" _I don't…no way, that can't be right._ "

There it was, staring right at her. A name that, until the events of the past month, would have meant nothing to her. Left leg, laceration to the thigh, fifteen stitches, it all fit.

" _Jake Clawson._ "

###### ###### ######

Marco pocketed his cell phone. The call had come in just in time; Lev, himself and a handful of Steele's kats were preparing to make their move on the enforcer vehicle depot.

Hold for 15 minutes.

Easy enough, but why now? If they were going to be caught out by the depot guards, it would be now. In light of recent events, waiting an extra fifteen minutes, parked across the road in a suspicious looking van, was a poor choice.

"What do you reckon Steele's waiting for?"

Lev, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the depot gate, replied in his trademark monotone.

"I cannot say, although I am confident that Mr Steele has considered the situation carefully, or he would not have requested that we delay."

"I'd rather get this over and done with."

The snow white kat momentarily broke his concentrate to turn his head towards Marco, the slightest hint of a frown displayed across his face.

"Need I remind you," he said, his voice calm, but firm, "that Mr Artiglio, along with others head of families, have placed trust in Mr Steele, not to mention provided a substantial number of kats for this operation. There's more at stake here than just your ego, Marco."

"You're not much for having a chat, are you?"

"It's unnecessary"

Marco absent mindedly flicked the safety on his pistol a few times, clicking it in and out of place. He had declined Steele's offer of a heavy rifle, feeling it would slow him down, plus, he liked his pistol, it had seen him through everything so far, and he knew it inside and out.

" _Five minutes._ "

The remaining kats in the van were no doubt busy with their own weapons, save for Lev, who was content to simply sit and stare.

A paw knocked on the rear of the cab. Marco slid the cover of the inspection window to the side and peered in.

"Sir, are we ready?"

"Not yet, boss wants us to wait, has something special in mind."

"Roger."

He snapped the cover shut and returned his attention to his weapon.

" _Charged, spare packs…_ "

"It would appear that our esteemed Megakat City Enforcers have taken an interest in our vehicle."

Marco looked up at the sound of Lev's voice. Sure enough, a lone enforcer, a sergeant, judging by his peaked cap, was leisurely strolling towards their position.

"Crud! Lev, you armed?"

"I am not, why?"

"Why!? You didn't bring a gun?!"

"Relax, Marco, it is my intention to acquire adequate personal protection on site. I am here, at the request of your employer, may I add, to provide my services as a vehicle operator. Should my safety be threatened prior to entry into the armoury, I am confident in your ability to diminish the threat."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Fancy talking, but it's not going to count for anything if we get busted now!"

"Disappointing. You possess above average intelligence, Marco, I recommend you employ it from time to time."

The enforcer sergeant reached the van, passing behind the vehicle before walking up beside the passenger window. After a few taps of his nightstick on the glass, Lev lowered the window, leaving Marco precious few seconds to shove his pistol under his seat.

" _Ah shit._ "

The officer glanced around the small cab for a few moments before talking.

"What's the story here, boys."

Marco opened his mouth to respond.

"Ah, nothin' goin' on, sir." came Lev's response, every trace of his foreign accent replaced by a deep, slow drawl. "We was jus' comin' down from HQ, said y'all needed sum help wit th' automatic gate."

"We don't have any maintenance scheduled for today. Where's your work order?"

Lev forced out a sheepish smile. Convincing, certainly, yet to Marco, utterly alien.

"Ah shoot. Sir, I'm real sorry an' all, we was sent down here real quick like, I think the work order was sent through to y'all down here 'fore we came. Maybe you could jus' check in th' office, see if it came through."

"You should have been issued a work order."

"I know, I know sir, but we wasn't. Look, I'm jus' doing mah job here, if you could jus' check for us, I'd be real appreciative. If you don't got it, we'll jus' be on our way."

The enforcer took another look at Marco before stepping back from the van.

"Alright, you boys just wait here, I'll be right back."

Without another word, he turned and walked, more briskly this time, towards the open gate of the Enforcer armoury. Lev's face instantly returned to its usual blank expression as soon as the enforcer broke line of sight.

"Lev," started Marco, "smooth and all, but what do we do when they don't find the order?"

"I doubt it will be of much concern to us," came Lev's reply, his voice once more thick and heavy, "the fifteen minute period expires in twenty five seconds. As it so happens, our small dilemma has resulted in the opening of the gate. Now that the prime obstacle to our infiltration has been removed, I suggest you take advantage of the situation and remove that particular officer. Five seconds."

"Infiltration, ha!" scoffed Marco, taking aim with his pistol and pulling the trigger. The crimson beam lanced out, striking the enforcer sergeant between the shoulder blades, blasting through his torso and out his chest.

"Break's over boys, time to work!"

###### ###### ######

"Here you are ma'am, Chance will be on it this afternoon. We'll give you a call when it's done, should be about three days."

Jake handed the receipt to the she-kat standing in their reception area.

"Three days?" she replied. "It's just a dinged fender, can't you get it done quicker?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've full up for the week."

"It doesn't look live you've got much work around here."

Jake glanced about. True enough, his story did fit with the lack of vehicles in their workshop. Apart from the car just dropped off, the only other vehicle present was an old pickup that Chance was currently working on.

"We're expecting a big job to come in from The Enforcers. Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"No, thanks, my husband followed me here."

Jake watched their lone customer for the day walk out of the reception before stepping into a waiting car.

"Just close the shop already, hotshot." Chance's voice boomed from the inspection pit. "We'll have the jet up and running in half the time if we both pitch in."

"Working on the turbokat doesn't pay the bills, buddy." said Jake.

"So how long you gunna be?"

Jake flicked through a tattered notebook, musing over his scribblings and diagrams.

"I'm guessing five or six days for the engines," he said, "plus another two weeks for the electrics. I haven't even looked at the flight control systems yet. Think you can handle the shop until then?"

"Sure, not like we're drowning in customers out here."

Jake tucked the notebook into his denim overalls before making his way towards the hangar access hatch. He had planned to start removing the engine turbines today, but such a large job would require his partner's help. Instead, he intended to give their cyclotrons a quick once-over. Far less complicated than a jet engine, they'd survived their mothballing relatively intact. A fluid change and a bit of lubricant should see them in working order in a couple of hours.

Beyond that, it was going to be a long few weeks.

###### ###### ######

"You Moore?"

"I'm Jackson, that's Moore."

The enforcer dismissed the mistake with a wave of his paw.

"Whatever," he said, glancing around the underground parking lot, " just get your tails in here before someone sees you!"

The two kats entered the small service way in the first basement level of Enforcer Headquarters. The third kat, a lieutenant judging by his rank insignia, quickly closed the door behind them.

"Do you have my payment?" he asked, his voice severe, yet hushed.

The kat identifying himself as Jackson reached into his jacket pocket and produced a bulging envelope.

"All there," he said, "ten grand."

"Alright, alright, if you want to get up to the flight deck, you'll need to take the maintenance elevator, it will take you all the way to the top. I can't give you card access, but if you hit the fire alarm, the doors will open automatically."

"How many guards?"

The enforcer shrugged. "I'm not sure, three or four. If you have to take anyone out, do it fast, everyone around here's got an itchy trigger finger at the moment."

"Sounds easy enough." continued Jackson. Anything we need to know about the jets? Still the MK IVs?"

"Yeah, same jets as we flew ten years ago. Hey, your boss told me that you were pilots back in the day, but are you sure you remember how to fly?"

Moore grinned.

"I guess we're about to find out."

###### ###### ######

"WHAT!?"

"Sir, it's everywhere, all the traffic signals in the city, they're down."

Commander Feral leapt from his chair. His day had started before first light and would likely finish well after dark. Whatever this was, it could not have come at a more inconvenient time.

"Do we know who's behind it?" he asked.

"Sir, we only know because the boys down at traffic control have been completely locked out of their systems. We didn't know the lights were down until about five hundred fender benders later."

Feral was already donning his coat and rushing for the door.

"Sergeant!" he barked, "Issue a general emergency, I want every Enforcer in riot gear in ten minutes! Get perimeters set up here and at City Hall, and send some cars over to the hospitals!"

"Yes sir, anything else?"

Feral paused for a moment at the door. He had no proof that this had anything to do with the events of the past month, but experience told him that coincidences were rare. The mob were about to make a move.

"Yes, call my niece, tell her to get her tail over here, on the double!"

"Sir!"

Feral barged from his office just as the fire alarm sounded throughout the entire building.

###### ###### ######

Marco wrenched the knife free of the enforcer's chest, the body slumping to the floor as the kat's last breaths wheezed through the hole in his punctured lung.

"ANYONE ELSE?!"

The remaining three officers were backed up against the wall of the small barracks, held at gunpoint by Steele's kats. Specialist drivers typically interacted with criminals through the gunsight of their tanks, and rarely got up close and personal. Marco had been taken by surprised when one of them had decided to engage in some foolhardy heroics. Quick reflexes and a sharp blade, however, had rapidly put an end to what could have been a very unfortunate accident.

"Lev," he said, "you OK?"

"It will heal."

Marco turned towards the captive enforcers, menacing them with his pistol. After the first guard, they'd only had to put down two more before the drivers themselves had given up.

"Alright boys, listen to me very carefully. We're going to be borrowing four of your tanks. Now I can see that you've got six of them, so my friend here is going to be putting two of them out of commision in case any of you feel like following. We won't be long, so I suggest that until we leave, you all stay nice and still unless you want to end up like like him."

Marco kicked the corpse at his feet.

"Any questions?"

Silence.

"Good. Lev, with me."

The two kats left their captives and made for the depot's vehicle hangar. Apart from the, compliment of tanks, there were some two dozen enforcer cruisers and a helicopter.

"Well, would you look at that!"

Weighing in at over eighty tonnes, the standard model enforcer tank was a sight to behold. Impenetrable to all but the heaviest weaponry and sporting two massive cannons, it was rarely seen outside of parades and training exercises these days. Nevertheless, at some five million dollars each, the Enforcers insisted on keeping them in mint condition.

Lev leapt up onto the front glacis and yanked the driver's hatch open. With a wave of his paw, he motioned for half of their group to mount three of the remaining tanks, before making a cutting motion across his throat and pointing towards the two surplus vehicles. Two kats, weighed down with heavy duffle bags, ran forward, mimicking Lev as they jumped up and opened the hatches of the tanks. The bags disappeared inside the vehicles and the kats jumped clear.

"Explosives in place, sirs."

"Excellent." said Lev, his eyes unnaturally wide and unblinking as his paws darted across the driver's control panel. "Marco, it is my understand that you received basic training in the operation of these vehicles during your period of enforcer service."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't count on remembering anything." replied Marco, peering in through the open hatch.

"Irrelevant, you will follow my instructions. We will be firing upon large static objects, so finesse will not be required."

"If you say so, the boss wanted me to tag along with you anyone, make sure everything goes smoothly."

Lev turned to face Marco.

"It will."

"Good. The other boys know what they're doing, but you'll be in the hot seat for this one. I've got to check in with our other crew, then we'll be ready to move."

Lev didn't respond.

" _Typical._ "

Marco jumped from the tank and pulled out his cell phone, hitting quick dial and raising it to his ear. It picked up after a single ring.

Jackson here.

"You and Moore ready?"

Moore's just planting the explosives. Radar tower is down, should take them at least thirty minutes to get it up and running. We'll be long gone by then.

"Good work, have any trouble?"

No sir. Moore knocked some guard off the flight deck and almost tumbled after him. We're good to go in one minute.

"Happy trails, boys."

Marco hung up the call and replaced the cell phone in his jacket pocket. The tank roared to life behind him, the engine spewing black smoke into the vehicle hangar. Lev's head, already wearing a vehicle commander's helmet, stuck out of the driver's hatch.

"Marco, it is time."

Marco climbed up and on top of the turret, pulling open the hatch and sliding into the gunner's position. Ideally, they'd have someone in the commander's chair, but that would mean one less tank.

"You should have voltage." continued Lev. "The main sight is passive optic; it is most unlikely that we will require the thermal filters. To the right of the trigger assembly is the master arming switch; select standby."

"Ok, standby selected. What now?"

Lev pivoted in the driver's chair, looking up through the hull and into the turret space. His face, normally so calm and void of emotion, was full of energy. He grinned an almost goofy smile, teeth showing and lips curled up. When he spoke, his voice was higher than usual, and off key, as if he was excited, but simply didn't know how to respond.

"And now, Marco, we rock 'n ruin!"

###### ###### ######

In the end, she had simply decided to take the day off, official duties be damned. Already exhausted after her morning exercise, she had received a call from her driver, something about the whole city being gridlocked, lights out or something. Rather than face the prospect of a two hour commute, she had sent him home and was now simply faced with the choice between a nice long bath or a nap.

Manx might have something to say about her absence, but she was sure he'd use this as an excuse to spend the entire day playing golf.

" _Doubt we'll get much done, Feral can handle the city for a single day._ "

The view from her window reaffirmed her decision to stay home. The streets were bumper to bumper as far as she could see, the sound of a thousand horns audible even through the three inches of bulletproof glasses installed in all the outward facing windows. Enforcer patrol officers were out in force, directing traffic and...in riot gear?

" _Hmmmm._ "

Callie activated the intercom terminal next to her front door, punching in the code for the building security.

Yes, Miss Briggs?

"Is everything all right down there? There are a lot of enforcers running about in heavy gear."

Nothing to worry about, ma'am, we've got everything under control.

"Sure, thanks."

She was unconvinced, perhaps she should call Feral directly.

" _Traffic problems don't call for tanks…_ "

###### ###### ######

"Three, two, one…there we go."

Even from this distance, the sight of the enforcer armoury depot flaring up as the explosives set off the remaining ammunition and fuel stores could be seen. The fireball rose rapidly to the level of the surrounding buildings before puffing out, leaving a cloud of thick, black smoke in its place.

"How are we for time, Lev?"

"Two minutes."

Even with the traffic gridlocked as it was, they were making good progress. Motorists were desperately making way for the tanks, mounting the sidewalk, scraping up against cars parked along the side of the road, or simply abandoning their vehicles entirely. Despite the surprise at seeing enforcer driven with such little regard for collateral damage, no-one argued with over three hundred tonnes of steel.

If the first explosion had kats worried, the second, this time erupting from the top of Enforcer Headquarters, had them in a downright panic. Moore and Jackson had done the job well, cratering the flight deck as they escaped with two enforcer jets.

"Things are getting hot out there. Lev, we in range?"

"Technically, yes." came the reply, "Although I have my doubts as to your ability to hit a target from this distance. I'll warrant that our luck will improve if we close to two thousand meters."

"Well, step on it, I've got one last call to make."

Again Marco reached for his cell phone, dialing the number of yet another of Steele's kats.

No signal.

"Can't get a call out, Lev."

"My suspicion that that your phone lacks transmission gain sufficient to establish a connection, after all, we're surrounded by some eight inches of steel armour. If you require communications, the radio is capable of interfacing with the cellular network."

Marco rolled his eyes and punched the number into the radio's keypad.

Sir?

"Perez, how many?"

Uh, we've got about four hundred in total sir, one fifty each for Enforcer Headquarters and the deputy mayor's place, plus an extra hundred for City Hall.

"That many?"

Yes sir, seems all the families want a piece of this pie.

"And you're good to go?"

Yes sir.

"Ok, make sure you're ready."

Marco released his thumb from the transmit button and returned his eyes to the gunner's sight.

"Uh, Lev, I've got us at nineteen hundred and fifty meters from the building."

"Very well." said Lev, punching a few keys on his own radio. "All vehicles, proceed at combat pace. Calico Briggs' residence is the third floor from the top. In the floor directly below is a security station, concentrate your fire here for the first salvo. Your aim must be exact, we require that she is captured alive. On my go."

"And us?" asked Marco.

"If the information supplied by your superior is accurate, the van parked out the front is in fact an unmarked enforcer vehicle. Set your range to eighteen hundred and load high explosives."

The autoloaders clunked and whirred, ramming 100 pound shells into the vehicle's twin cannons.

"Range set."

"Fire."

###### ###### ######

Callie was halfway between her dining table and kitchen when the first round struck. The 155mm projectile blasted a parked van appart, showering the facade of the building with scrap metal.

" _What?_ "

The second and third hits came seconds later, slamming into the building two floors below her apartment. The force of the explosions threw her to the ground, shattering fixtures and causing parts the ceiling to collapse inward, covering the floor in plasterboard.

" _What's going on!?_ "

She had been in trouble before, and knew to act quickly. By the time she got to her feet, the fourth and fifth rounds hit. Far closer to the mark, the huge pane of bulletproof glass blasted inwards, sending her flying across the room and into the wall. Obliterated furniture and fragments of glass landed around her, partially burying her.

"Help…" she wheezed, the air stolen from her lungs by the impact.

There was no-one to help her, not here. Crawling on all fours, she made her way to the bedroom. With luck, it would still be there.

Two more explosions, this time bringing down a good portion of the exterior wall.

" _Almost..._ "

The bedroom was a mess; her large bed crushed beneath a fallen steel beam, the walls and floor cracked, covered in debris.

" _Where is it?_ "

Her handbag, its contents miraculously unspoilt, hanging from the remains of a bookcase. Reaching up, Callie pulled it down and thrust her paw inside.

" _Where is it, where is it!?_ "

Her fingers grasped the familiar contours of the triangular communicator just as another explosion rocked the building, bringing more plaster down upon her head.

" _Please, please, please!_ "

She pressed the button.

###### ###### ######

"Hey buddy, Schmoke's is opening again today, I was going to grab us some breakfast burritos, you in?"

Chance's head appeared from the inspection pit, partly covered in grease.

"Sure, extra hot sauce?"

"You bet."

"How's the fix going?" he asked his smaller partner.

"Easier than I thought, just need to grab a couple of gallons of motor oil and that should just about do it. I can start of the jet tomorrow."

"Good to hear, how much…"

For the first time in over two years, the klaxon on the wall of the workshop coughed to life, the red emergency light above it lighting up, flashing brightly in their faces.

Callie was in danger.

The pair of mechanics simply stared at each other, all notions of their breakfast forgotten. They understood their situation: the Turbokat was barely airworthy, although it would theoretically fly, and their most basic equipment, their glovatrix's, were functional, yet they lacked ammunition beyond a few mini scramblers. The condition of the remainder of their equipment was unknown, yet certainly far from operable. They themselves were out of shape, out of practice and now, out of time.

They understood their position all too well.

"LET'S HIT IT!"

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
First part of the big showdown! Sorry for the late update, I'm in the middle of end of semester exams. Only one left, though, and it's pretty easy one, so I should be able to squeeze in some writing. As of the end of next week though, I'm free for three/four months! It's only going to heat up from here on out, so stay tuned!

So, given that I'm going to have a bit of time on my hands, I've decided to give something back to the fanfiction community and offer my services as a beta-reader. As lacking as my own skills might be, if there's some small way in which I can help, I will. Check out my profile and feel free to contact me!

Cheers!  
-AR


	12. Chapter 11 - Showdown: Part 2

Felina slammed her foot on the brake pedal and swerved violently to the left as the first wave of shots ricocheted off the hood of her patrol cruiser. A mixture of laser and slug weaponry; the energy beams dissipated harmlessly off the specially laminated paneling of the vehicle, while the solid projectiles were deflected upwards into the windshield, spider-webbing the glass and reducing visibility to zero. The rear wheels locked up and lost grip, sending the cruiser into a slide, spinning wildly and exposing its side profile to attack. Rounds penetrated the thin metal of the front passenger door, tearing through the dashboard and showering Felina with shattered plastic and shredded metal.

The she-kat grasped the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as vehicle began to tip.

" _Crud._ "

In what would have been an incredible shot, had it been aimed at such, a searing beam of energy lanced out, striking the sidewall of the front right tire, superheating the air within and bursting it outward. The steel rim bit into the road surface, catching the asphalt and rolling the cruiser past the point of no return.

"HANG ON!"

The sound of glass shattering was comprehensively drowned out by a sickening, metallic crunch as the chassis twisted and contorted. Sparks flashed past Felina's eyes as the vehicle skidded on its roof before colliding violently with a row of parked cars, flipping one final time and coming to rest on its side.

"Abby!" she yelled, still strapped to her seat, "You ok?"

"My arm…"

Shots continued to strike the half-inverted cruiser, piercing the roof and peppering the interior. Miraculously, neither Abby nor herself had been hit, although she wasn't willing to stick around and find out just how long their luck would hold out.

"C'mon, Abby, we've got to get out of here."

As if cued in by the suggestion that they escape, a white-hot shot from a high gain laser weapon punctured the roof of the cruiser, grazing Felina's forearm as it impacted and ignited the center console in a geyser of flames and molten plastic. Pain shot up her arm as the fur was scotched from her flesh. With acrid smoke rapidly filling the interior of the vehicle, Felina released the seatbelt and fell against the mangled passenger side door, pressed hard against the road surface.

"MOVE, NOW!"

Both on and under fire, she leapt up, coming to a standing position in the confines of the flipped cruiser. Placing her boot on the front passenger headrest she pushed upwards, crawling out through the shattered driver's side window as shots whipped around her. They had made it to within half a block of Enforcer Headquarters, which now lay a mere two hundred yards distant. The sounds of gunfire had become audible, even over the roar of the engine and wailing of the siren, some dozen blocks prior, but it wasn't until now that she saw the full scope of the attack. In excess of one hundred kats, armed with a motley assortment of energy and projectile weapons, were mounting a vicious charge up the front steps. What officers had remained within the building after the commander had enacted general emergency procedures had taken up defensive positions in the lobby, firing sporadically all their attackers. Despite the advantageous firing position and sound cover, they were simply too few to resist. The offensive was making slow, but sure progress towards the front doors.

With a heave, the she-kat pulled herself free of the wreck, falling to a crouching position as the half-dozen patrol cars she had had in tow pulled up beside her, forming a makeshift barricade. Officers immediately poured from the vehicles, taking up firing positions about the street.

"Fel-fel!"

" _Abby..._ "

Keeping low, Felina sprinted across a dozen yards of open road, sliding the last few feet behind the relative cover of an enforcer cruiser. Several enforcers were already unloading their laser rifles down the street, dropping a handful of attackers.

"Sergeant!" yelled Felina, straining to make her voice heard over the combat.

One of the kats present paused briefly, ducking his head behind the front bumper, turning to face Felina as he reloaded his weapon.

"Ma'am?"

"I need you and two of your kats, we've got an enforcer trapped in that cruiser."

"A little busy here, ma'am." came the reply.

"That's an order!" snarled Felina.

The sergeant waved two of his charges over, indicating to the overturned vehicle with his left paw. Nodding silently, they made ready to break from cover.

"Ok, keep their heads down, we're heading on over!" he barked.

Felina removed her own weapon from its holster.

"Ready."

"Go go go!"

The barrage of incoming fire, having steadily increased over the thirty seconds that had passed since her arrival on the scene, reached fever pitch. Immediately upon throwing themselves into the line of fire, one of the enforcers was caught in the leg by a slug, crashing to the ground having taken a mere two steps. Felina fired her pistol blindly as she ran, covering the distance to her friend as quickly as she could. By sheer luck, her, the sergeant and the remaining enforcer officer reached the cover of the wreck unscathed.

"Alright," she began, her heart racing, "you two, grab my legs and push me up, once I've got Sharpe, we're pulling her out. Got it?"

They nodded in unison.

"Go for it."

Shots continued to snap past as she was pushed up the underside of the overturned cruiser. Attempting to present as small a target as possible, she reached over and into the interior, grasping for her friend.

"Abby!"

The fire.

For all her quick thinking and quicker feet, the flames had spread at a rate that she simply had not predicted. The front two seats of the cruiser were completely immolated, despite the passage of less than a minute. Thick, caustic smoke stung at her eyes, completely overwhelming the smell of ozone and cordite, tearing harshly at her lungs.

"ABBY!"

No response.

" _No, no...not like this!_ "

It had all happened so quickly. The attack, the call from her uncle and subsequent mad dash through the packed city streets. A burst of fire and a poorly judged swerve and here they were, so close, yet unable to help.

Felina did something she had never done before, in over a decade of service.

Felina Feral panicked.

She didn't know what to do. Shoot back? Charge? Scream? There were a thousand options, a thousand courses of action she could take, and she just froze.

Such was her condition that she barely noticed the paw reach up from the confines of the enforcer cruiser and grasp her by the wrist.

"Ma'am?"

Her state of shock persisted as she was pulled free, dragging a slightly charred yet very much alive Abigail Sharpe with her. The pair collapsed on the tarmac behind the vehicle, the two enforcer officers immediately moved to Abigail, now clutching her arm and grimacing in pain.

"Ma'am?"

"I...huh?"

Felina snapped from her breif moment of incoherency; Abby was safe, that's all that mattered.

"Ma'am, please," said the sergeant, "you need to take care of this, she's hurt."

Abigail's arm hung limply by her side, twisted at an unnatural angle.

"Cover us!"

The sergeant and his subordinate bolted forth just as the enforcers opposite opened up in a torrent of fire. Scooping up their wounded comrade along the way, the trio of kats returned to their positions and resumed firing upon their enemy.

Felina turned her attention to her wounded friend. Even with her most basic level of first aid knowledge, and a cursory glance, it was obvious that Abigail Sharpe had dislocated her shoulder, badly.

"Kat's alive, Abby…"

"I want to go home."

Felina placed her paw on her friend's good shoulder, attempting to reassure her among the maelstrom of shooting.

"Abby," she started, her voice as soft as she could manage considering the circumstances, "I need you in this with me. There's no free rides today, we've all got to saddle up."

Her friend nodded.

"Ok, ok, I'm going to shove this back in for you, it's going to hurt like mad, but we don't have much choice. You ready?"

Another nod.

"Give me your paw.

Felina took her friend's paw in her hand and, bending her elbow to a ninety degree angle, rotated the affected limb outward before thrusting it sharply upwards and outwards. Abby let out a brief shriek as the joint was rammed back into place. Bruising and swelling would continue for some weeks, but for now, she had use of both arms.

"Better?"

Abby forced out a smile, wiping a few tears from her eyes. "That's me Fel-fel."

Any illusions that very minor victory had been anything but were shattered along with the streetlamp above their heads, destroyed by a blast from a laser rifle. Paws shooting upwards to cover their heads, the two she-kats were showered in broken glass for a second time.

"We've got to move, push up towards headquarters. My uncle probably has his paws full, he's going to need some help. Still have your gun, Sharpe?"

"Sure do!"

Her friend's response, while delivered in her usual, cheerful voice, sounded ever so slightly off. It was typical of her, certainly, with bullets and lasers flying all around, the pair of them in mortal danger and having just had her shoulder violently wrenched from its socket, to still manage to find a way to sound as if she was bouncing off for a night of dancing. Not this time, though. This time, there was a hint of weariness about her.

Now, however, was not the time to consider such sentimentalities.

"Right." continued Felina. "I want you to stay here and keep us covered. I'm going to get the sergeant and his kats and see if we can't move up this side of the road behind this line of cars. You see anyone coming the other way and you put them down for me."

"Ok, Fel-fel, I've got you."

Feline flashed a quick grin at her subordinate.

"Hey, don't worry about it, we'll have them running home with their tails between their legs in no time, just need a bit of…"

For all of ten seconds, the din of gunfire was snuffed out by the high pitched whine of a jet engine. Not the low, thrashing hum of a single engined enforcer aircraft, this was something else. Something fast.

Something black.

For a brief moment, Felina saw the unmistakable fuselage of the Turbokat flash past before disappearing over the rooftops. Trailing smoke and flames in its wake, the SWAT Kats were either performing the dirtiest fuel dump in the history of aviation, or their jet had seen better days.

It didn't matter, they were here, and for Felina, it felt as if a crushing weight had suddenly been lifted from her.

Almost forgetting her surroundings, she turned back to face Abigail.

"Scrap that, I've got a better idea."

A puzzled look.

Standing up, she yelled across the street, her voice carrying just far enough over the racket to be heard.

"Hey, got a radio?"

###### ###### ######

The city flashed below them, a seemingly endless blur of buildings and highways. The aircraft jinked left and right, buffeted by the thermal updrafts ever present when flying at such low altitude over an urbanised area.

Low and slow.

Despite their transonic speed, despite flying with wings swept forward, what would have been typically been considered a lazy crawl for a jet capable of Mach five and beyond felt like riding an out of control train, as if they were pushing the very limits of their flight envelope.

It felt painful.

T-Bone wrestled with the stick, wincing at every creak and groan that the Turbokat's airframe spat at him. The jet was protesting; protesting the lack of hydraulic pressure, protesting the loss of trim control, protesting each and every command input that taxed the horribly uncalibrated manual flight controls. The turbulent air only made the situation worse, with even a small bump throwing the aircraft's attitude off neutral in all three axes.

The fact that they had managed to take off at all after their leading edge extensions failed to function, effectively stalling their wing-tips halfway up the tunnel, had been either a stroke of immense luck or an act of raw stupidity.

Perhaps both.

"How're our engines going?" he asked, his attention far too focused on staying airborne to take in the information provided by the select few aircraft internals that were still functional.

"Badly." replied Razor. "We're under-spinning the turbines, burning fuel like crazy and overheating the whole assembly. Unless we want to risk the afterburner, this is as fast as we're going."

"No supercruise?"

"No supercruise."

"VTOL?"

"Maybe. Feel like exploding?"

Razor continued to tinker with his console, slowing bringing systems back online one at a time. Radar was up, but due to a general undervolting of the electrical systems, was limited to a passive mode of operation. Secondary systems; communications, navigation, weapons release and the like appeared functional, but wouldn't likely withstand much in the way of prolonged use. Strangely, mega-laser capacitors were showing full charge, good for a single shot.

"Buddy, the enforcer emergency band is going crazy, we've got something big going on down there, see anything yet?"

"Negative." replied T-Bone, pitching the aircraft violently upward in response to a sudden compression issue. "Still got Callie's signal?"

"Locked on and getting closer, we'll be on it in thirty seconds."

"Roger that."

The larger kat yawed the jet through several degrees, bringing the skyline of downtown Megakat City into view. Skyscraper stretching over a thousand feet into the air pierced a low lying cloud layer. Below, the vast network freeways and arterial roads spread out like a spiderweb in all directions, crossing bridges many miles in length or diving through tunnels. From the perspective of the two vigilantes, even flying as low as they were, it could almost be mistaken for any other day in Megakat City.

Almost.

"Holy kats, Razor, look at that!"

Directly ahead, a huge plume of smoke billowed skyward. Set against the slightly smaller buildings of midtown Megakat City, the source of the smoke was not immediately obvious, although the two pilots were almost certain it had something to do with Callie's call. In addition to the apparent devastation that lay directly ahead, a smaller plume could be seen emanating from the top of Enforcer Headquarters, along with a third originating from an unidentified source some miles distant.

"Right back into it, hey T-Bone?"

"You said it, sureshot, now what's the game plan for Callie?

"Well," replied Razor, "we've got to find her first, she'd down there somewhere."

"Taking us in for a closer look."

T-Bone pushed forward on the stick, dropping the aircraft rapidly until it skimmed just above the rooftops of the city. A few minor pitches and rolls later, and they intersected the plume of smoke from where Callie's signal was originating.

Razor's jaw dropped.

"Woah, what a mess!"

Flying so low they had a detailed, albeit quick, picture of the situation on the ground. What they could only assume was Callie's residence looked as if it were in the middle of war zone. The entire frontal facade of the building had been destroyed, it's shattered remains spread across the streets. Spot fires had igniting in both it and nearby buildings, the smoke thickening as the flames spread. They had expected something of this nature, just not so…extreme.

And then there were the tanks.

Four enforcer tanks, guns still pounding the rapidly deteriorating husk of the apartment block, slowly advanced up the street. About them, dozens of armed kats swarmed and hurried, moving with the armoured vehicles towards Callie's building, or exchanging fire with the smattering of security personnel still standing amidst the barrage.

A few shots pinged ineffectual at their jet.

"Wanna toss a coin to see who gets to go down there and be the hero?"

"Funny," replied Razor. "but we've really got our work cut out for us here, I think we're…"

SWAT Kats, come in. T-Bone, Razor, you there?

"...gunna need some help with this one."

It was very clearly Felina's voice, and she was very clearly in trouble. The distinctive sound of gunshots overwhelmed the radio's tiny receiver, producing a cross between a pop and a static hiss in T-Bone and Razor's headsets. Several other voices could be heard intermittently in the background, unintelligible over the general noise.

Razor switched the radio from general scan and dialed in Felina's frequency.

"Uh, what do you need, Captain?"

Late to the party, guys, where have you been?

"Blame T-Bone, he nearly crashed us." replied Razor.

"Hey!"

Well, glad to have you back. We've in trouble down here, got a couple dozen spare missiles?

"Love to help, Captain, but we've got to save the deputy mayor, she's in serious trouble."

Callie Briggs is in trouble? Nobody told me.

"I don't think anyone knows, her building is mostly collapsed, we're probably going to have to go in on foot, if we can deal with the tanks."

Tanks?! Felina was sounding increasingly shocked. We've got tanks? Where did they come from?

"Beats me, Captain, maybe you should ask your uncle."

There's a lot I'd like to know, but right now I've got bigger problems. Could really use some help though.

"We'll see what we can do."

The radio cut out before they could received Felina's response, replaced instead by a high-pitched whining. A quick glance to the warning lights now flashing on his weapon's console told Razor everything he needed to know.

"T-BONE, WE'RE BEING PAINTED, GET US OUTTA HERE!"

###### ###### ######

"Uh, Lev, we've got company."

The white-furred kat grinned goofily as the tank flattened an enforcer cruiser, a low chuckle escaping his lips as the sound of the cruisers mangled wreck scraping along the underside reverberated about the armoured vehicle's crew compartment. Leaving the destroyed car in its wake, the tank travelled some dozen yards before Lev's expression returned to normal.

"It would appear so." he started, keeping his unblinking eyes fixed straight ahead. "I must confess I find this turn of events unusual, I hadn't anticipated the city's resident vigilantes making an appearance."

Lev flicked a few switches as the Turbokat tore overhead, training the tank's thermal imaging suite upon the jet. Marco's fire control display filled with the red-hot exhaust of the jet, along with a wealth of other information that made little sense to the grey-furred kat.

"Alright, what's all this? Don't think we're going to be taking 'em out with the tank…"

"Quite right, we won't be. That is to say; I won't be. You, however, are going to address this small impediment before it becomes troubling."

Marco frowned. Lev, perhaps rather insidiously considering his outward mannerisms, had been growing steadily bolder. The arrangement between Steele and Artiglio hadn't specified that one or the other would be "in charge", even if Lev had calling the shots regarding operation of the tanks. Still, while it was appropriate that he do so in such circumstances, to blatantly order Marco about was pushing the bounds of their partnership.

" _Now is not the time..._ "

"Ok, what am I doing?" he asked.

"It's quite simple." came Lev's reply. "There is a K-PADS unit in the outer ammunition stowage locker. If memory serves, the system will come equipped with three rounds. I anticipate that you shall only need two."

"Wait, you want me to shoot them down with a bazooka?!"

"Hardly." continued Lev. "It is highly unlikely that a modern jet can be dispatched with shoulder-fired anti-aircraft weaponry. However, such an attack will force the pilot into a defensive position, allowing us adequate time to complete our task here."

"Right."

"Of course, feel free to destroy them should the opportunity arise."

Marco unclipped himself from the gunners seat and released the hatch. Cool air swirled into the tank's stuffy interior as he pulled himself upward, coming to a crouching position atop the turret before jumping down. His boots hit the road surface hard as the tank inched forward, its cannons now silent.

The scene before him was something from a war movie. Not only had the target building been all but leveled, stray shots and shrapnel had done severe damage to the surrounding residences and businesses. Glass, steel and masonry littered the street, and there wasn't an unbroken window for hundreds of feet in all directions.

For a fleeting moment, Marco experienced a strange fusion of excitement and dread as he surveyed his handiwork. Certainly, it was far from where he had imagined himself some months ago, but getting paid ridiculous amounts along with partaking in an event that would be remembered for years to come was worlds apart from his previous life of petty crime, and infinitely more preferable.

His temporary emotive rush quickly gave way to what had been growing slowly but steadily over the past few months; a feeling of unease. He was in deep; deeper than he had intended to go, and from where he stood, he could only see it getting deeper.

" _Let's get this done._ "

He punched the release hatch on the ammo locker and retrieved the weapon. The tube was bulky, and as with most enforcer weapons, crudely yet effectively designed. Already loaded with a guided missile, Marco hoisted it to his shoulder and flipped open the firing console.

" _Haven't used one of these in a while… arming switch, laser to trace…_ "

A few errant shots zipped past. The meagre security forces located within the apartment complex had offered little resistance, and had been quickly overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity of the attack. Marco calmly flipped the requisite switches and brought the weapon's targeting computer online. An orange light in the viewfinder indicated that the weapon was in seek mode, and had yet to acquire a target. He panned left, scanning the sky just above the rooftops.

The sleek, black shape of the Turbokat filled his vision.

Instinctively, he depressed a toggle under his right paw, switching the weapon to tracking mode. The device automatically cycled the viewfinder into the infrared spectrum, the brilliant exhaust of his target now clearly visible. Simultaneously, the laser homing system activating, shooting a beam out and highlighting the jet. All he need do now was release the firing safety and a missile would ride the laser to within a few hundred feet of the target before the infrared terminal guidance system kicked in, ramming ten pounds of high explosive into the engines of the jet.

Marco hesitated.

He knew well what he was; murderer, thief, criminal, assassin. Thug for hire. The self-righteous kats who flew that jet pitted themselves against him. They were the enemy.

" _Do the job, Marco, get paid._ "

A quick swivel of a dial and he set the proximity fuse to it's highest setting, one hundred feet.

" _After all, I'm a professional._ "

He released the trigger and sent a missile streaking towards the Turbokat.

###### ###### ######

It hurt to cough. With every breath she drew in, a sharp pain stabbed at Callie's chest. Too add to her woes, the air was thick with smoke, causing her to hack and splutter every few seconds. Still, as far as she could determine, she was, a the very least, alive. Bruised, battered and covered in dust, but alive.

" _I guess that's a good sign._ "

The past few minutes had been a blur. She remembered scrambling for her communicator, a thunderous crash and more dust and debris than she thought possible. She recalled the roof coming down and...

A flash of heat.

" _Gotta get out of here._ "

Only the sturdy wooden frame of her bed had prevented the collapsing roof from crushing her. The space had been reduced to a mere two feet, forcing Callie to crawl towards where she assumed the fire escape was on all fours.

Or at least, she would have, were it not for for the fact that her left leg was in agony.

" _Crud._ "

It was too dark and dusty to see the injured limb. Reaching down, Callie ran her paw past her knee and felt around her shin.

Something jagged pricked her fingers.

Prodding around the protrusion, she realised that her lower leg had been bent, and was jutting outward at some thirty degrees. She withdrew her fingers, now slick with blood, not wanting to explore her injury further.

Another few coughs. The pain in her chest intensified.

" _Oh please, don't give me this…"_

Summoning her resolve, she crawled forward, pulling herself across the floor painful inch by painful inch. It was exhausting work. Unable to breath and with her leg dragging uselessly behind her, fatigue quickly set in.

" _C'mon, Callie, you can't let this do you in._ "

Voices.

They were nearby, perhaps in the hallway. Finally reaching the bedroom door, she propped herself up against the frame and glanced out into her living room. The glass windows overlooking the street were no more, replaced by a gaping tear in the front of the building. The floor sloped downward at a steep angle, dropping through several of the lower levels before coming to rest atop a pile of rubble. Flames licked upward, fueled by burst gas lines, slowly igniting the remains of the building.

She couldn't stay here, best to take her chances.

"Help!" she cried, forcing her voice out despite the pain in her chest. "I'm in here, someone help!"

The voices went silent. Rapid footsteps could now be heard, crunching over the ground, heading for her front door, now hanging from it's frame by a single hinge.

They stopped just outside.

The door was perforated by a sudden burst of laser fire, exploding what remained of it inwards. Three kats, heavily armed and dressed in a mixture of denim, leather and black market protective gear sauntered in. Most certainly not an enforcer rescue team.

Three weapons were leveled at Callie.

"Well well, looks like we've caught ourselves a pretty little butterfly!"

###### ###### ######

The Turbokat's missile approach warning system screamed in T-Bone's ears. The rear optical sensors had been triggered, indicating that someone wanting painting them with a laser targeting system from behind.

"Where's it come from, Razor, tell me!"

His partner furiously adjusted the aircraft's barely functioning electronic suite, shutting off unnecessary systems and desperately trying to give the two kats a picture of what was coming at them.

"No radar, buddy." he shot back. "We're flying blind here."

"Crud!"

T-Bone rolled the jet sharply to the right and pulled back hard on the stick, executing a Split S manoeuvre that barely missed the rooftops below, the airframe audibly protesting as the pair were pushed hard into their seats. The gamble paid off; as the aircraft leveled out, the tell-tale exhaust streak of a missile came into view, approaching rapidly.

"We've got one incoming, Razor, hold on!"

One thousand feet.

The distance between their jet and the missile closed alarmingly fast. Without the benefit of supersonic flight, they would have to rely purely on aerobatics to escape. A head-on offered the highest chance of avoidance, but it was risky.

Five hundred feet.

T-Bone dipped the nose slightly, preparing to execute the evasion.

Two hundred feet.

At one hundred and fifty feet, he again pulled backward, this time applying a small amount of lateral movement to the stick in a single, clean motion. The jet pitched upward and dipped to the right, barrel rolling about the incoming projectile. The two vigilantes looked upwards as the missile streaked past the canopy.

The jet had just passed through fully inverted when the warhead exploded.

Razor's first action was to silently curse how difficult it would be to repair the canopy as a single piece of shrapnel pierced through, embedding itself in his flight console. They had gotten off seemingly lightly; the warhead had exploded some distance from their aircraft. Beyond a few dings and and overloading of the altimeter, they were still in the air.

"Woah, buddy." he said, checking himself for injury, "Close one."

"No kidding, we gotta do something about those tanks."

"Roger that." replied Razor. "One blowtorch missile ready. No lock, so we're going to have to dumb fire, drop us in on top of them"

T-Bone rolled the jet back through to horizontal before sharply pitching down, diving towards the slowly moving tanks at a slight angle.

"Hold us there, almost got it and… missile away!"

The missile shot forward as T-Bone pulled out of the dive. Even though fired without the benefit of any sort of guidance, the larger kat's expert flying had brought them to within a few hundred yards of their target. The missile struck the trailing tank just behind the turret, the thermal charge igniting and reducing the engine block and a good portion of rear half of the vehicle to molten slag. As the fuel ignited, several kats leapt from the rapidly immolating vehicle.

"Bingo! One down, three to go."

"What do we have left?" asked T-Bone, banking the jet around as he lined up for a second run.

"Not much, hotshot, octopus missiles aren't much good, let's try a megavolt."

Again the jet dropped down for an attack, and again the smaller kat's aim was dead on. While not as outwardly destructive as the first hit, the second-to-lead tank had its internal circuitry completely and irrevocably destroyed by the surge of electricity, grinding to a halt outside Callie's building.

"Nice shot!" quipped T-Bone, "But it looks like someone down there wants to play."

The lead tank had begun swerving violently, crushing vehicles and scattering kats before ramming through a storefront, embedding itself completely within the building.

"I'd hate to disappoint them, bring us around and I'll…"

Razor's weapons console lit up again.

This time, the warning system switched from lock to launch almost immediately. There was nowhere to maneuver. Flying low, their airspeed barely above three hundred knots, and with the missile approaching at right angles to their flight path, there was simply no way to escape this time.

Except for one.

T-Bone twitched, his left paw tightening around the throttle. Instinctively, he depressed the forward release, hearing the aft fuel pumps spool in response.

"Now or never, buddy, hit it!" came the call from the rear of the cockpit.

The large tabby slammed the throttle forward, crashing it into the frontstop. Initially, the sudden influx of jet fuel downstream of an already underspinning turbine caused a sudden buildup of pressure directly behind the blades as the liquid flashed to vapor. With expanding gasses attempting to force their way against the flow of air through the engine, turbine speed dropped further.

The two ignited engines began to surge, shooting blasts of flame rearward as the fuel ignited in batches. Thrust cut to zero for a fraction of a second.

T-Bone and Razor were reaching for their ejection levers as the thrust kicked back in, slamming the better part of one hundred thousand pounds-feet of thrust through the airframe, crushing the two kats into their seats. The underspinning had been the engine's saving grace, with the overheating caused by a degraded airflow heating the combustion chamber walls to the point where the entire engine acted as one giant igniter.

"All right!"

T-Bone pulled the Turbokat into a steep climb as the airspeed rapidly exceeded Mach one. The missile, it's infrared guidance confused by the sudden gout of flame, locked on to where it believed the jet to be, exploding harmlessly some five hundred yards from the jet as its proximity fuse was overloaded by the still-burning fuel lingering in the air.

The jet's altitude passed ten thousand feet.

"Two for two, T-Bone, want to go for a third?" quipped Razor.

"Ha, not today. We've still got a damsel in distress to rescue."

"And another tank to take care of."

T-Bone eased back on the throttle, cutting the afterburners with a distinct pop and bringing their rapid ascent under control. Gently rolling the jet over, their altitude topped out at a touch over fifteen thousand feet before descending near vertically towards the mayhem below.

"Out of missiles." said Razor, rapidly cycling the armament selector on his weapon's console. "Line us up, we'll hit 'em with the megalaser."

"Moving in."

Struggling with the stick as airspeed dropped to a near-stall, T-Bone lined the jet up on the final tank, now driving parallel to the front of Callie's building, firing indiscriminately at the few remaining enforcers. Without a functioning hydraulic system, his ability to keep the jet on the straight and level was severely limited; it would be up to Razor's skill to hit the target.

"We've got one shot, buddy, make it count."

Razor gimballed the weapon in its nose mounting, depressing his trigger some one thousand feet out. The Turbokat's nose-cone split down its longitudinal axis, actuating backward and revealing the laser emitter.

There was no shot.

A yellow warning light flashed across both kat's consoles, their headsets filled with yet another alarm, screaming at them for attention.

"We've got a master caution, T-Bone, pull up!"

"Take the shot!"

Razor slammed his paw into the caution light, disabling the warning device before pulling his trigger again. This time, he weapon fired. The canopy was, for the tiniest moment, brilliantly illuminated with a blinding blue light, completely obscuring everything about them. The master voltage readout spiked to several hundred times its nominal limit as dials and displays exploded about them, showering the interior of the jet with sparks. The aircraft continued to drop, pitching violent back and forth as the fuel pumps spluttered, shorting out as a result of the sudden electrical surge. Desperate for lift and engine power, T-Bone slammed the throttle forward again, kicking in the afterburners for a second time.

This time, the leftmost engine simply gave up.

The engine surged and stalled completely, combusting violently and ejecting shredded turbine blades out both ends. With the opposite engine fully igniting and running wet, the thrust profile was now asymmetric, causing the Turbokat to roll violently over, the left wing stalling as the nose dipped below the horizon.

"T-BONE!"

Through sheer skill and a heavy dose of luck, the large kat flung the jet aggressively to the left, applying as much rudder and aileron turn as he could with the struggling control surfaces. The jet leveled out, smoking, flying a few knots above a stall, but still airborne.

"I guess that's number three." cracked Razor.

"Did you miss?"

"No idea." he replied. "But we're out of time. Bring us back around, I'll hit the building from the top and save Callie. You go and help Felina."

"Remember Megakat tower?"

"Hey, I'm not planning on getting eaten by mutant plants this time, unless Callie's been keeping something from us."

"Alright, partner." said T-Bone. "Go kick their tails!"

Sliding the canopy backwards as the jew flew over the apartment complex, Razor donned his glovatrix and leap from the aircraft, momentarily freefalling before deploying his delta pack, gliding in for a landing on the mostly collapsed roof.

T-Bone switched the radio back to transmit mode, pressing the transmit button on his flight stick.

"Captain Feral." he began.

T-Bone?

"Mind if I crash your party?"

###### ###### ######

Marco threw himself to the ground as the laser struck the last of their operational tanks. The impact, while not powerful enough to penetrate the thick armour, melted or burned almost everything on the exterior of the vehicle, fused turret, barrel and tracks into one solid mass of red hot steel. The SWAT Kats jet streaked overhead, recovering from a rather nasty looking stall before looping lazily about on a heading towards the Deputy Mayor's residence.

" _Lev!_ "

The grey kat threw his now expended missile launcher aside and sprinted to where Lev had collided his tank with a shopfront. The vehicle had penetrated a good way inward, coming to a stop in what was left of a storeroom.

"Ha, you're one crazy kat, you know that?"

Lev was standing, casually and completely unharmed, next to the front of the vehicle. His fur was slick with water, courtesy of a burst pipe.

"Marco." he began, his voice as monotonous as always. "I am pleased to see that you have seen off our assailants. I believe my role in this escapade has come to an end. I am under no illusions as to the inadequacy of my combat training, I doubt very much that I would be able to have a sizeable impact in securing and eliminating the Deputy Mayor."

"You handle the tank just fine." replied Marco.

Lev ran his paw over the scratched and battered exterior of the vehicle. For a moment, Marco thought he saw a flash of sadness in the white kat's eyes.

"Tanks…" continued Lev, "...are simple. I regret to say that a firefight would be beyond me, I have never been one for chaos and mayhem.

"Uh...look around you?"

"An unfortunate side effect of our actions here. We were not assigned to these roles so we could smash cars and shell buildings; we're here to remove Calico Briggs. I suggest you attend to it."

More orders.

"I'll get to it." said Marco, brushing the insolence aside. "What about you?"

"I am no longer part of this equation. Should you require my services again, your employer need only contact Mr Artiglio. I bid you farewell, Marco Gatti."

Without saying another word, Lev, so suddenly and quickly thrust into Marco's life after years without contact, walked down the destroyed street as if nothing had ever happened.

Gathering his weapon, Marco made for the target building, keeping low between burnt out cars. He had crossed the final piece of open ground before the entranceway when his radio chimed to life.

Sir, you there?

"Marco here."

Sir, we got her!

###### ###### ######

In a way, Steele was sad to leave. Since his involuntary dismissal from The Enforcers some three years prior, he had made quite the success of an otherwise struggling warehousing business. His recent escapades, for a long time in the planning phase, had certainly been made possible through the contribution of his mysterious contact. His "employees" were only there because of connections he established during his time in law enforcement, as were most of his more unsavory associates.

The business, however, was his.

From the very start, he had intended to use it as a platform from which to operate the less than legal side of his activities. It is from this that the necessity of "Mr Tugger" had realised. A few lined pockets at City Hall had made the identity a reality; the owner of a legitimate business. "Mr Tugger" had seen him through the past three years, running what was at first a very minor criminal enterprise, not much beyond minor cases of extortion and blackmail. A few disgruntled former enforcers joined his ranks, and his influence grew.

All this changed when he had been contacted by that strange individual.

The kat that knew it all. From that moment forward, he had nearly everything that he needed; funding, contacts and access to weaponry. I had been a ride, a ride that had now taken him to a point where his business had become a liability. The Enforcers may be slow, but they were ultimately, not stupid. They would find this place, and they would uncover Tugger; he simply couldn't afford to be here when it all happened.

Steele connected the final few wires to the detonator and made his way for the exit.

" _At least it's been fun._ "

The situation would likely become far less enjoyable after today. Where he went from here would depend mostly on the course of action decided upon by Feral. He had a fairly good idea; the commander of The Enforcers was not known for his imagination, and he felt well prepared.

Marco would be crucial. He had been pleasantly surprised by the professionalism and competency of his latest hire. A few questions here and there, just enough so as not to appear stupid, yet not enough to undermine Steele's professional authority over him. While Steele wasn't sure if Marco had bought his rhetoric about forcing change upon the Megakat City Enforcers, this was likely beneficial to their relationship. A kat who worked purely for money was easy to deal with.

The orange furred kat ran his paw along the now-empty reception desk before exiting the building for the last time.

*BZZZZZZZZZT*

" _What now?_ "

Steele fished his cell phone from his pocket, walking hurriedly along the sidewalk as he hit the answer button.

"Yes?"

We've got a problem.

"Huh? Who is this?"

You know who this is, you didn't really think I'd just let you run this show without keeping tabs on you and your little gang?

Steele almost dropped the phone. A call like this, at this point in time? Either something more serious than the chaos enveloping the city was occurring.

Or Steele had been mistaken from the outset.

"Um...ok...what do you need? I...I've got everything under control, you know!"

Do you? Really?

"Yes! Of course!"

Well, maybe you do, but I'm not concerned with you. You've got a certain...paranoid streak about you. No, I'm talking about your hound, Marco Gatti.

"What's he done now?"

Listen, this business is all about secrets. You might know this, but I don't think Gatti even cares. He's gone and done something very stupid. I'll give it two days before The Enforcers are onto the lot of you.

"What has happened? Tell me!"

A high pitched laugh erupted from the other end of the line.

Ok, ok, sure. It's actually pretty easy to solve, you just need to know which link in the information chain to break. I'm sure I can count on you to take care of things?

"Hey, no turning back now, right?"

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:  
I'm back! Really sorry about the delay!

I had decided push the release of this chapter back a week or two after the events in Paris. Given the subject matter that I'm dealing with, I decided to hold off on updating out of respect for the victims. I want everyone to know that I'm absolutely not self-censoring, everything in this chapter is as I intended, but I just felt it wasn't an appropriate time to be writing about what is essentially domestic terrorism. I'm hoping to return to a more regular update schedule after this; you can expect Part 3 some time between Christmas and New Year.

Enough of that! This is the first time I've written anything relating to aerial combat, even if it is just dodging missiles! I hope I didn't throw in too much esoteric terminology. One thing I think I should point out is that K-PADS is basically the SWAT Kats universe equivalent of MANPADS (man-portable air defense system). I replaced the MAN with a K because, well, they're kats.

You can expect more fighter jet action in upcoming chapters. I had an idea of writing a quick spin-off (maybe 10k words) focusing on aerial dogfighting (katfighting?) during Mega War 2, perhaps featuring The Red Lynx and an OC or two. Would anyone actually be interested in reading this? Would mostly be for practice on my part, hopefully get a bit of feedback. Let me know!

Anyways, as usual, thanks for reading, please send any comments that you want, good or bad, I always appreciate feedback. Best wish to all of you this holiday season.

Stay safe.

-AR


	13. Chapter 12 - Showdown: Part 3

Feral's fist met the face of the first kat out of the elevator, smashing the thug to the ground. Flanked by a throng of his best enforcer officers, the big kat charged forward, flooring two more assailants before crashing a third into the back of the elevator cage. His subordinates followed behind, batons and stun-rods flailing wildly, beating the attackers into a submissive pulp in the ensuing melee.

"Sergeant!" barked Feral, holding a bloodied and bruised kat up by his collar. "Secure this scum!"

Feral's ever-present aide moved in, directing the officers as they slapped cuffs on the thugs and hauled them away.

"Sir! We've got an injury here!"

One of the younger enforcer officers had suffered a gash across his cheek, courtesy of a desperate swing with a knife. He clutched at the wound, wincing slightly as blood seeped onto his paw.

"Suck it up." spat Feral. "We've got bigger things to worry about than a cut like that."

The sergeant, accustomed to his commander's hard-line approach, brushed the comment aside as he helped the wounded kat to his feet and directed him towards the infirmary.

"What now, sir?" he asked.

Feral pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. In his eagerness to make a show of force, to show both the citizens of Megakat City and these criminals that The Enforcers were always ready to serve and to protect, he had made an error. He had scattered the thirty thousand odd enforcers currently on duty to locations about the city; hospitals, power plants and municipal buildings. In doing so he had cast a net, ready to catch what he expected to be little more than run-of-the-mill criminal activity.

How wrong he had been.

The attacks had come swifty, aggressively and, most importantly, concentrated in a number of key locations. Rather than facing a rabble of mobsters and small-time thugs, The Enforcers had been targeted in an attack displaying a level of coordination and competency not seen since the days of national militaries.

"Sir?"

"Where's our backup, Sergeant?"

"We've got choppers fueling up out at the Anakata Island watchstation, they'll be here in thirty minutes."

Feral scoffed. "We won't last ten."

His aide looked sheepishly about before responding.

"Well," he began, "she was on the horn a few minutes ago."

"Yes? And?"

"She seemed to be… speak with the SWAT Kats."

"That's just great." bemoaned Feral. "On top of half the city erupting into riots, I have to deal with those two!"

"Sir, if I might…"

"No, I don't want to think about it. Get all the district superintendents on the line, recall as many officers as you can, I want them back here, on the double! We're beating this scum back!"

The enforcer sergeant shifted uneasily in his uniform, grasping his radio tightly in his paw.

"Sir, please, we don't know where the danger lies. Who knows how many more kats are out there, just waiting for us to do exactly this. We have to keep everyone on station and…"

Feral's glare cut him short.

"Don't you see." he sneered, his tone one of deep exasperation. "This isn't about them, it's about us. These lowlifes aren't out there robbing banks or convenience stores, they're shooting at us! We're the target, and it's time for us to shoot back. Make the call!"

The door at the end of the hall, a fire escape leading to the exterior of the building, burst open before Feral's subordinate could respond. A dozen more kats poured out, firing madly as they sprinted down the corridor towards the small group of enforcers. Without the benefit of cover for either side, the ensuing combat was swift and brutal; the assailants being quickly dropped along with two of Feral's group.

"Get him up!"

The corridor wasn't safe, and with more kats rapidly approaching, Feral was running out of options.

"The roof, now!" he bellowed, keeping his oversized pistol training on the stairwell. "And make that call sergeant, it's either them or us!"

* * *

"Oooff!"

A slight overestimation of his level of fitness, along with a poorly judged jump, saw Razor splayed across the rubble covered floor. The drop from the mostly-intact roof onto the second-to-top floor of the residential block had been a good six feet further than he had guessed. He had landed in what appeared to be a laundry; the remains of a washing machine poking out from beneath a partially collapsed wall.

"Huh?"

The orange kat quickly realised that he didn't have the luxury of carefully picking himself up, dusting off his g-suit and checking for breaks. His landing had been loud, and had attracted attention. Within seconds, the thudding of heavy boots across twisted floorboards sounded from the adjacent rooms.

He rolled onto his stomach and fired blindly, two small bolases shooting out towards the source of the sound. The kat charged through the door, training his weapon on Razor as the first bolas went wide, slamming into the doorframe. The kat pulled the trigger just as the second collided with his upper arm, pinning the limb and weapon to his torso. Razor leapt to his feet as the beam lanced inches above his head; he had precious seconds before the kat would line up a second shot. He surged forward, jumping to the right and kicking off the wall. With a swift thrust of his leg, he crashed his knee into the side of the gunkat's skull, slamming his body sideways.

The thug's finger's pumped the trigger involuntarily as he fell.

Razor landed on all fours, a sharp pain shooting through his shoulders as his body was taxed to its limit by the sudden burst of activity.

" _Crud, don't remember all this being so hard._ "

Razor poked his head out of the laundry, surveying the demolished apartment before making his way through what he assumed was the living room and out onto a small landing. As before, there wasn't any time to regain his composure; it was a near certainty that his position was now known to his enemies. With the elevators clearly non-functional, Razor headed for the stairwell. He had to move; Callie was still in danger.

The first two kats he encountered on the stairs were dispatched with a quick series of kicks, punches and elbow jabs. The third, some ten feet further back, leveled a ageing, heavy calibre slugger upon Razor and fired, taking a sizeable chunk out of the masonry. Before he could rack the slide and chamber his next round, three mini-scramblers hit him square in the chest, seizing every muscle in his body and dropping him to the ground.

Razor clutched at his right shoulder, panting heavily, the pain of his strained muscles sweeping over him in waves.

" _T-bone would be better suited to a scrap like this._ "

The condition of the stairwell deteriorated rapidly as he descended further. Until this point, the realisation that he didn't actually know where Callie lived hadn't crossed his mind. In retrospect, it had been an oversight on their part; swearing to protect her yet lacking crucial information. All he had to go on was the steadily increasing pinging of his glovatrix's locator suite, homing in on the tracking device installed in Callie's communicator.

Judging by the condition of the building, he half expected to find her buried beneath a pile of concrete.

A few levels later and he came to within several dozen feet of the locator signal.

"Kat's alive!"

The floor was a mess. The entire frontal portion of the building had collapsed, taking half of the walls and a good portion of the floor with it. Callie's signal was coming from the almost completely destroyed husk of a bedroom, the shattered wall providing immediate access from the stairwell.

"Callie!" yelled Razor, scrambling over ruble and demolished furniture. "Callie!"

Sliding down the now-sloping floor, he came to rest against the remains of a large bed, adorned by a pair of barely recognisable tables.

" _Oh no…_ "

Razor picked up the triangular communicator, slick with blood.

* * *

"C'mon, Ravi, we gotta go!"

The data centre was a flurry of activity, with kats gathering up what they could and awkwardly running for the sole exit. The shift supervisor was furiously throwing kill-switches on the server racks, wiping the magnetic drive arrays of their data - payroll, shift rosters, addresses and phone numbers. Such precautions were necessary, even if it meant exposing the staff to danger in the event of an attack; the safety of a few computer technicians simply wasn't worth putting the lives of every enforcer in the city at risk.

"C'mon! Now!"

"Not yet!" shot Ravi, his eyes darting across his screen. "You go, I must stay!"

"Ya gunna get yaself whacked!"

"Just go!"

Ravi paid little attention as the last of his colleagues fled the data centre. He knew he was taking a gamble; with his life noless, but it was simply too great an opportunity to pass up. The commander's approach to this situation was, of course, direct and blunt. As much as he had implored Felina to take notice of what he considered to be a far more insidious threat than a bit of mindless thuggery, she and her superiors were either unable or unwilling to act on his recommendations.

But that didn't matter now.

" _What do you have for me?_ "

Despite the immediate danger, he was treading as carefully as he could. The mysterious intrusions of the past few months had been performed by a kat of exceptional skill, someone who had beaten Ravi at every turn.

Not today.

It was perhaps due to the chaos erupting in and around the building, the thought that no sane kat would remain to actively track activity on the network, that had resulted in his nemesis letting his guard down. Not by much; a tiny mistake here and there, but it was enough.

" _What are you looking for?_ "

The activity logs had been receiving server requests for the past fifteen minutes. Nothing that would appear out of the ordinary during day to day operations, but the simple fact that there was nobody here to be making them was cause for alarm. Most were fake, or at the very least, designed to throw anyone snooping about off the trail. A dozen login credentials were used, a brute force attempt at route access here and there, but nothing serious.

"Hey!"

The muffled yell had come from a distance down the hall, outside the data centre. The subsequent screams of his coworkers were punctuated by the rapid, high-pitched cracks of laser weaponry.

Paws shaking, Ravi closed his eyes and steeled himself; he didn't want to think about what he had just heard. The small kat punched a few more commands into his console, and waited patiently.

To move any faster would be to give himself away; this wasn't his show. The requests kept flowing, files were accessed, copied, and, in some cases, deleted. They were covering their tracks in a roundabout fashion; it would be obvious that there had been an intrusion. Tracking it, however, would be a different matter entirely.

And then, the slip-up he had been waiting for.

"Got you now!"

It wasn't until after he had jumped from his chair and thrown his paws above his head in triumph that he realised that he had shouted at the top of his lungs.

A fact not lost on the thug just outside the door.

Ravi froze. The door creaked slowly open; a paw clutching a heavy laser pistol cautiously inching through the widening gap. He took a step backwards, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Even with the occasional distant gunshot emanating from outside the building, a small disturbance within the room would very likely be heard. Ravi's paws went to his hip.

Nothing.

While he was entitled to carry a sidearm within the headquarters building, he rarely did. He wasn't a patrol officer; his job was behind a desk, and without the benefit of clairvoyance, the prospect of needing a weapon in the execution of his daily duties seemed absurd. He made a mental note to reflect upon the irony of the situation should be survive.

"Come here, little piggy, where are you?" the kat taunted, now fully within the room.

A bank of computer hardware separated Ravi from the intruder, but it would be a simple matter of walking a few paces, and he would be discovered. His eyes shot to his desk, searching for something, anything, that he might use to defend himself.

" _Perhaps I could just run for the door…_ "

Any hope of a rapid escape vanished as the kat made his way slowly around the computer bank, towards Ravi's desk. He opened his top draw.

" _Better than nothing._ "

His fingers closed around red leather ball. Almost identical in size to a baseball, yet far harder, it was a keepsake from his home country; signed as it was by a famous sportskat. Turning it over, he ran his middle and index finger along the ball, feeling the raise seam run between them. Despite having not played since his arrival in Megakat city, the grip felt natural.

Ravi rapidly backed away from his desk and ducked behind a server rack.

The armed kat sauntered over to his desk, knocking a few items to the floor as he glanced about.

"I know you're here, come out and make this easy!"

His voice trembled, Ravi replied.

"Right here."

As he bounded forward, the visualised himself at the top of his mark, running in, his team and coach watching on. The data centre was an elongated room, perhaps not quite thirty yards, but space enough to build up some speed.

The kat stepped out from the other side of the server rack, some fifteen yards ahead, his pistol hanging casually at his side.

He never had a chance to raise it.

With ten yards left, Ravi leapt, landing on his right foot and bringing his left leg through the line of his stride before it too fell sharply, knee locked straight. His right arm swung up and over his head, nearly grazing the ceiling of the data center as he released the ball.

Six ounces of rock hard leather collided with the gunkat's skull at a touch above eighty-five miles an hour, impacting just above his right eye socket. The blow saw the kat crumple backwards, his laser pistol falling from his paw as his body hit the ground, partly slumped against a server rack.

Out cold.

Adrenaline pumping, and not even pausing to scoop up the discarded weapon, Ravi bolted from the room as fast as he had ever run.

* * *

Macro's feet thundered in the empty stairwell as he raced upward, three steps at a time. With the shelling having subsided, the building was almost eerily quiet, in spite of the occasional groan of stressed concrete. The occasional plaintive wail emanated from the rubble; and unfortunate side effect of their actions, yet one that the business overlooked, if not outright demanded, at times.

A little too often for Macro's taste.

While the grey kat had long since abandoned any notion of being a morally upstanding member of society, he at least held himself with a certain professional integrity. Today's game plan had always been wanton destruction, but the goal was far greater than a few civilian casualties; this was about the city, about a shock to the system so great that change would be inevitable.

At least that's what he told himself.

"Sir."

One of Artiglio's kats stood up ahead, resting against the doorframe of the stairwell exit.

"Jeez, what happened to you, trip over your own tail?" asked Marco, a slight smirk coming to his face.

"Bitch stabbed me with a chunk of metal." replied the kat, his paw wiping away blood from an oozing wound on the side of his head.

"Ha."

The kat shot him as disapproving a look as he dared.

"No matter." continued Marco, "I hear you boys have something for me."

"Certainly do, sir." came the reply, "She's right through here."

The pair picked their way through the destroyed building, climbing over a fallen beam and into one of the few intact rooms on the level.

Flanked by two thugs was his target. The deputy mayor of Megakat City, Calico Briggs, on her knees with paws bound behind her back; was not ten feet before him. Battered and bruised, yet sporting a defiant glare, her eyes pierced upward at him.

"And who might you be?" she shot.

Marco squatted down beside her.

"I'd love to introduce myself, babe," he began, pulling his pistol from its holster and dialing the charge to maximum output. "but I'm not here for chit-chat. See, you've caused an awful lot of trouble for a lot of hard working kats."

"You're not going to get anything out of this."

Marco stood back up. She was putting on a brave face, but the fear in her voice was evident.

"I think I'm going to get exactly what I want." he replied, aiming the pistol at her head.

Calico Briggs' eyes went wide in terror as Marco pulled the trigger.

* * *

Abby's paws shot to her ears as the wreck of the cruiser was raked with fire. Though scant few minutes had passed since she and Felina had arrived, the situation had deteriorated markedly. The squad of enforcers they found themselves with had been reduced to a handful of kats; most of them were pinned down, wounded, or worse. She knew she should act; pick up her discarded weapon, return fire, something, anything.

But nothing came.

Felina, however, was a she-kat possessed. Furiously firing, her mouth curled into a snarl and spouting obscenities, she delivered a torrent of laser towards the horde of thugs rushing up the steps of Enforcer Headquarters. Despite the frantic assault, her targets fell too slowly; every one she put down would see two rush through the open doors at the top of the steps.

"Abby!"

A few shots peppered the ground around her.

"Abby, I need you in this with me!"

"Fel fel…"

Felina knelt down beside her friend, putting her attack on hold for a brief moment.

"Hey," she started, "we'll get through this, help's on the way."

"Yeah?"

A jet screamed overhead. Felina cracked a grin.

"Yeah."

* * *

"NO!"

Razor dashed forward, keeping low. The brief moment of despair felt at the sight of the discarded communicator had given way to sudden desperation. He had picked up on Callie's cries as she was violently shoved down the stairwell and into a small room. The initial thoughts he had, that he might ambush these kats as they carted her out, were pushed out of his mind at the sight of who he guessed was their leader, a large grey kat, producing a pistol. Not daring to fire his glovatrix for fear of hitting the deputy mayor, he had scooped up a mangled piece of rebar as he ran.

The grey kat's pistol fired.

A fraction of a second later, and he would have been too late. Razor's shoulder slammed into the back of the thug, slamming him forward and depositing the shot several inches to the left of Callie's head.

The two flanking kat's raised their weapons.

As he fell with his target, Razor kicked violently upward, connecting his foot with the underside of one of the kat's chins. The kat stumbled backward from the blow, dazed, yet still on his feet.

"You little bastard!"

Rolling backwards as the large, grey kat toppled forward, Razor quickly rose to his feet and jumped forward, launching himself off the kat's back. Before the stunned thug could bring his weapon to bare, one and a half feet of rebar slammed into his gut, driving the wind from his lungs and dropping him unceremoniously upon the concrete floor.

" _One down._ "

Continuing forward, allowing the momentum of his jump to carry him past the line of fire of the second thug, Razor twisted mid-air and fired from his glovatrix, the shot now clear. A trio of mini-smokers hit his target square in the chest, bursting on impact and filling the room near-instantly with a thick, pungent black smoke.

"Razor!"

Callie's cry came from his left.

"Callie, get up!" he shot back.

"Oh you've gone and done it now!"

The voice of the grey kat came from behind him. Without thinking, Razor blindly swung the rebar. It connected with something fleshly, eliciting a grunt and the clatter of a metallic object falling to the ground.

Callie collided with Razor.

"Crud! Callie, did I hit you?"

"No!" she yelled, panic rising in her voice, "I'm fine, run!"

Grabbing her by the arm, he bolted for the exit, pulling the she-kat behind him. The two kats were almost at the stairwell when Razor caught a flash of movement to his left. Instinctively, he turned to face the threat, pushing Callie away, shielding her from harm.

" _He's fast._ "

The grey kat moved quickly, sprinting out of the rapidly expanding cloud of of smoke and swinging his fist. Deftly ducking under the blow, Razor brought up his glovatrix and trained it on the target.

Too slow.

" _Crud!_ "

The punch been a ruse, a fact that Razor came to realise just as he felt Callie's arm yanked from his grip.

He wheeled around, coming face to face with the grey kat for the first time.

"Drop it, Swat Kat!"

The kat was large, taller than T-Bone, although not as heavily built. His gaunt physique was covered in charcoal grey fur, the lighter patches around his eyes and at the tips of his ears suggesting that he was at least a decade Razor's senior.

Such observations might be useful for a later profiling by The Enforcers, but in the moment, all Razor was concerned with was the large, serrated blade held to Callie's throat.

"Ok, buddy, hold up here." said Razor, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage. "Let's just talk about this."

The grey kat sneered.

"Not today, Swat Kat." he spat. "I'll give you five seconds to drop your weapon, then I'm gutting her. Don't want to have to pick up all the piece, do you?"

Razor knew that as soon as he let his guard down, Callie was dead. The kat's earlier actions suggestion that he wasn't here to take a hostage, or even deliver a particularly forceful method. This was all about removing Megakat City's deputy mayor from the equation, whatever that might be.

A distant siren.

"Hear that, seems your buddies have scattered." continued Razor, motioning towards the front of the building with his head. "The Enforcers are on their way, let her go and I'll leave it up to them to chase you down."

"Five."

Razor's heart began to race. He was good, but didn't trust his aim in this situation. The grey kat had Callie held tight, and with adrenaline coursing through his veins, the shot would be fifty-fifty at best.

"Alright, you've made your point; let's talk. Tell me what you want."

"Four."

The orange kat's eyes darted about the room, looking for anything that might give him an edge.

"Three."

"Razor, please…" cried Callie, tears streaming down her face."

"Two."

Razor twitched his wrist, almost imperceptibly, loading a single missile into his glovatrix's central firing tube, before looking Callie in the eyes, his expression softening for a brief moment.

"I'm really sorry about this, Callie."

Before the grey kat could count down further, Razor thrust his right arm forward, firing his glovatrix upward. The missiles payload was small, a mere half ounce of explosives, but the effect was far beyond its diminutive nature. He had banked on the building being structurally unstable, a gamble that had paid off.

The missile slammed into the ceiling above their heads, the small but powerful explosion shattering the already damaged structure and dislodging several hundred pounds of concrete and steel. Pieces cascaded downwards, striking both Callie and the grey kat, knocking them to the ground.

"Quickly!" shouted Razor, pushing a length of steel aside and scooping Callie out of the pile.

Bleeding from a dozen cuts and covered in concrete dust, she nodded meekly. She grasped her arms tightly about Razor's neck as he bounded down the stairs. After a few tense moments filled only by his ragged breathing and the pattering of his bare feet upon concrete, the two kats burst out into the demolished lobby.

"Freeze!"

Razor skidded to a halt as two dozen enforcers trained their weapons upon who he had carried with him, they swiftly lowered their rifles.

"She's hurt."

Razor deposited his charge into the outstretched arms of two paramedics before slumping down against a wall. The entire affair had lasted less than five minutes, yet had left him completely drained. Panting heavily, joints aching and lungs burning from the dust, he glanced upward at the enforcers. The day had been perhaps even longer and more arduous from them, judging from the looks of despondency barely visible beneath their combat helmets.

Despite Feral's long-standing order to arrest either of the SWAT Kats on sight, now simply was not the time.

* * *

T-Bone eased the throttle back, banking around the towering monolith of Enforcer Headquarters in a wide arc.

"Hey Captain." he said, depressing the radio transmit button with his thumb. "Got your paws full down there?"

T-Bone! Took your sweet time getting here, jet run out of gas?

"The old girl needs more than a top-up."

Great, so how about you help us out down here?

T-Bone pushed forward on the flight stick while adjusting the elevator trim as best he could. The Turbokat dipped down, its wingtips nearly scraping the facades of buildings as it dipped below rooftop level.

Several shots pinged off the underside of the jet.

"Seems like you've stirred up and ant's nest down there, Captain."

Tell me about it, what can you do for me?

"I could try asking real nice."

I think it would work better if you just blasted them.

"Negative. Razor's gone off to play hero and I'm not half the shot he is." replied T-Bone, pulling the jet into a climb so as to avoid further fire. "I doubt your uncle would thank us if I missed and blew up half his building."

There won't be half a building left to blow up at this rate. Look, we've got over a hundred enforcers en-route to sort this mess out, we just need five minutes. If you've got anything, now's the time.

"Roger that."

Truth be told, there wasn't much he could do. With the jet barely airborne, their meagre munitions stocks near depleted and a canyon-like approach to the target, nothing short of a suicidal crash landing would dislodge the plethora of kats from the front of Enforcer Headquarters. Short of divine intervention, the only way out would be sheer, dumb luck.

As it turned out, the difference between heroics and stupidity was more often than not defined by luck.

T-Bone grinned as he executed a high-g pylon turn and smashed the throttle forward.

"Head's up, Captain, it's going to get loud down there!"

I don't see….T-Bone!

In its current condition, the Turbokat likely wouldn't survive another trip through the sound barrier on engine power alone. A dive, however, that was a different matter.

A dive that T-Bone executed perfectly.

The air speed needled ticked through Mach 1 just as the Turbokat bottomed out, the base of the dive a mere twenty feet above the road surface. The supersonic shockwave, amplified by the narrow confines of the inner city street, blasted outward, shattering windows and knocking kats off their feet.

Kat's alive, T-Bone, that was something else!

"Glad to be of service, your turn now."

* * *

"Oooh, those reckless braggarts!"

Ulysses Feral picked himself up from the flight deck and surveyed the damage. Atop the headquarters building as they were, the sonic boom had weakened sufficiently so as to merely throw the inattentive to the ground.

The majority of the destruction, however, had been previously wrought by two kats and a few pounds of explosives. The flight deck was out, as was the radar tower, cratered or outright destroyed by the interlopers posing as enforcers.

Ultimately, that wasn't the concern. The concern was the two missing jets.

Feral's radio crackled to life.

Uncle!

"Felina!" he shouted into the receiver, "What the devil is going on down there?"

Seems we've been given a break, your backup is two minutes away, but you're going to have company up the top soon!

"I know, I know, any crisis I haven't been told about yet?"

There was a brief pause before the reply came.

Uncle, you need help, don't go and do something stupid!

"Can it, Felina, I'll deal with any scumbags that make it up here, there's bigger things to worry about."

The Swat Kats are already out rescuing Miss Briggs.

"What?" Feral almost crushed the radio in his paw. "Since when was Briggs in danger!?"

Since about the time half the lowlifes in the city decided to pay you a visit.

"Fantastic, just what I need."

They're on it!

"That's what I'm worried about. Look, I can't do much from up here, we've got two missing jets, can't let these scum get their paws on air power like that!"

Jets? Kat's alive, uncle, you should have said something.

"I was a little busy."

Felina smiled. Despite the situation, her uncle's very occasional, yet very dry sense of humour had survived intact. Chalk that up as a tiny victory.

Sir. she continued, Let me deal with the jets, I've got one of the Swat Kats on the line, we'll get your toys back.

Feral closed his eyes and sighed. His niece would very likely be the leader of the Megakat City Enforcers one day. While the position demanded, among many other things, strong initiative, he wasn't sure Felina's particular firebrand style was all that appropriate. She was yet to appreciate the subtleties of command.

" _Or dealing with City Hall._ "

Feral resigned himself to whatever Felina had in mind.

"Go ahead, Felina."

Roger that, uncle, I won't let you down!

* * *

Moore was on edge. It had been some five years since he was last in the cockpit of an enforcer jet. He remembered the location of every switch and dial, the feeling of every dip and turn of the aircraft, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Any pilot worth his wings knew his aircraft inside and out, but the cornerstone of the relationship between kat and machine was that it was, for all it mattered, the pilot's aircraft.

Moore had stolen this one.

There was an unwritten rule among pilots that you simply didn't touch another kat's aircraft. Each jet would be used by its assigned pilot until one or the other was put out of action. He may have turned his back on law enforcement and embraced a life of crime, but he was still a pilot.

His heart skipped a beat at the sudden buzz in his headset.

"Uh, yeah."

Steele's voice crackled over the radio.

Moore, you and Jackson get away?

"Yes sir. We're passing over the city outskirts now."

Radar?

"Taken care of. Cratered the runway too, shouldn't be anyone else in the air 'cept for a few news choppers."

Good. I've got one little task for you.

Moore hesitated. He was already uneasy; today's events had been far above his comfort level. There were too many variables, too much that could go wrong, and now he was being called on to add to that.

Then again, a hefty paycheque goes a long way towards easing one's concerns.

"Go ahead, sir."

Check your radar, seems we've got a bit of company back at Enforcer Headquarters, someone's been flying a jet around. I need someone to take care of it.

"Jet, sir?"

The Swat Kats.

"What? No way, sir, I'm not taking on the Turbokat in this thing!"

A chuckle from the other end of the line.

Relax, got word from our guys that it's trailing smoke, barely staying in the air, should be an easy kill for you. Get to it.

"...yes sir."

There no was no use running, no use turning back. To balk at this opportunity would be stupid, and to defy his increasingly ruthless employer stupider still.

Moore pulled the enforcer jet into a tight turn, pointing back towards downtown Megakat city. With a final instrument check, he pushed the throttle to its maximum and switched his radar to active.

* * *

"Someone call for an ace pilot?"

By sheer miracle, the Turbokat's VTOL system had engaged. The central engine, being the least damaged, had pivoted into place, the hydraulics grinding every inch of the way. A few tense maneuvers had allowed T-Bone to pilot the jet down to street level, placing it rather ungracefully upon the asphalt.

Felina appeared from behind a wrecked enforcer cruiser, sprinting towards the jet. The majority of the attackers had fled, with those not dispersed by T-Bone's boom-and-zoom now surrounded by enforcer reinforcements. Still, a few shots lanced across the street towards the she-kat, impacted the ground at her feet or glancing off the Turbokat's fuselage.

"Nice timing." she said, ducking under the nose cone before hauling herself onto the wing surface. "Was worried you might have got bored and gone home."

"And miss all the fun?" replied T-Bone. "Not today."

"Up for a bit of air-to-air?"

T-Bone's trademark cheshire grin oozed across his face.

"I thought you'd never ask." he said. "Hop in, I'm short one gunner."

Felina was met with the smell of oil and burnt metal as she aptly deposited herself into the rear seat of the Turbokat, the canopy closing behind her. Despite having received flight training in enforcer jets, the rear console bore a striking number of similarities to the aircraft she was accustomed to flying.

" _Probably a good reason for that…_ "

The engine turbines spun up, whining and coughing slightly as the jet rose. Presently, they found themselves above the rooftops of the lowest buildings, yet still a good distance beneath the rooftop flight deck of the headquarters building.

"Captain, you'll need to keep an eye out for me, we've not going to break any air speed records in this thing today, we'll just have to outfly 'em."

"Roger that." replied Felina.

She flicked a few switches, bringing up a poorly-functioning radar display, complete with overlay. A few muddy blips phased in and out of coherence.

"We've got no juice back here, T-Bone."

In the pilot's seat, the burly tom pushed forward slightly on the throttle, spinning the turbines faster in an attempt to squeeze a few extra volts out of the aircraft's auxiliary power unit. As the rate of climb increased accordingly, Felina's radar screen flickered to life, the blips now becoming solid and bright.

"Right, we've got two coming in….they're moving pretty fast."

For the third time that day, the intercept alarm sounded.

Aerial combat places a premium on a select few variables; speed, altitude and energy. T-Bone was wanting for all three. The jet was low, basically stationary and hardly gaining speed. He and his partner had escaped twice already, by the slimmest of margins. Trusting lady luck in this instance was a hope beyond hope. This was a fight he could not win, even against the vastly inferior enforcer aircraft, they simply had too huge an advantage.

T-Bone turned his head to face Felina, still grinning. There was always at least one way out.

"Buckle up."

He dared not think about what he was about to do, even momentary consideration would have him doubting himself, such was the colossal stupidity of his intended course of action. T-Bone slammed the throttle forward and punched an innocuous button at the very top of his flight console.

The Turbokat's four sub-orbital engines roared to life.

Five g's kicked T-Bone and Felina in the chest, flattening them into their seats. With a sharp deflection of the flight stick to the rear, the Turbokat climbed, the face of Enforcer Headquarters rushing past in a fraction of a second.

In two seconds, they passed the roof level of Megakat Tower, the tallest building in the city.

An additional five seconds, and the sound barrier was broken, their altitude passing four thousand feet.

"T-Bone!" screamed Felina. "We're clear, shut it down!"

Wrestling with the stick, T-bone hit the engine shutdown switch as he pulled the aircraft out of its near-vertical climb.

The engines remained live.

"No luck!" he shouted, the jet's angle of climb now some forty-five degrees.

"Let's eject!"

"No!"

The city rapidly receded beneath them as they continued to accelerate. At forty thousand feet above the ground, now travelling well in excess of Mach five, the jet finally leveled out.

"Shut them down, T-Bone." pleaded Felina, her paws nervously clamping the eject lever.

"Trying to!"

The Turbokat's four sub-orbital engines, usually hidden away in the fuselage, were a hybrid of rocket and jet. Burning the same fuel as their three primary engines, albeit as a far higher rate, they were capable of prolonged atmospheric flight. In situations necessitating their use, however, it was assumed that oxidisers would be required. For this purpose, the jet carried a four hundred gallon tank of liquid oxygen. Prolonged inactivity had caused the complex array of control valves and emergency shut-off systems to completely ice over.

In the ten or so second that T-Bone had spent frantically attempting to shut the engines down, the Turbokat had passed well beyond the city limits, and was now flying over desert. All but the most minute of aerodynamic maneuvers at such speeds were out of the question, anything beyond the smallest deflection of the control surfaces risked tearing the entire airframe to shreds.

"T-Bone." said Felina, a measure of calmness returning to her voice. "We're about to pass the demarcation line, you've gotta get us down!"

Resigning himself to the severity of the situation, T-Bone pitched the Turbokat downwards, moving the flight stick with millimetre precision.

The entire aircraft shuddered as the elevators were torn from their mountings.

"Uh...what was that." asked Felina.

"Don't look behind you." came the reply.

The pair were offered a brief respite as the fuel ran out, snuffing out the engine's and casting them in a steep ballistic arc.

"T-Bone, what's the play here…"

It was no use. They were well outside of the Megakat City limits, out of fuel and plummeting rapidly. Either they crash and burn or...

T-Bone's paw went to the eject lever.

"Captain, on three, we eject."

A nod.

"One."

Twenty thousand feet.

"Two."

The aircraft began rolling to the right.

"Three."

The eject system fired, sending electrical signals to the explosive bolts holding both the seats in place and the canopy to the fuselage. A second later, and two sets of miniature rockets fired, pushing the seats upwards and clear of the aircraft.

At least, that would have happened were it not for the extensive corrosion present throughout the entire electrical system.

The explosive bolts failed to fire. The rockets did not.

The cockpit filled instantly with hot, acrid smoke, obscuring all vision and tearing at the two kat's lungs. Blinded, out of breath and racing towards the ground in an inverted position, T-Bone retrieved his glovatrix from beneath his seat, shoved it over his paw and fired. The canopy glass shattered as the mini octopus missile shot forward, the onrush of hot desert air rapidly clearing the cockpit.

They were five hundred feet above the ground, sand and rock rushing up to meet the crippled aircraft.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I'm back! Really sorry for the huge wait for this chapter, I've been suffering from a pretty bad bout of writer's block. Still, it all came back to me about three days ago and I smashed the rest of the chapter out, hope it's alright!

I'm going to try a new writing method to prevent huge waits in future, I figure if I can do 1000 words a day, you should get an update every week or so. I'm feeling pretty good at the moment, so I'm hoping I can smash out the next couple of chapters reasonably quickly!

As a side note, I'm working on another little one-shot, hope to have it up in a few days. It's a follow-on from my previous one, Down These Red Skies. Not a sequel, not using any of the same characters, but it's going to be set in the same time period (Mega War 2). Basically just my own little take on the history of the Swat Kats universe. Not cannon, naturally, just my interpretation.

Thanks for your patience!  
-AR


	14. Chapter 13 - Loose Ends

Marco really didn't want to take the call.

He had barely escaped, having hauled himself from the pile of rubble deposited on top of him by the Swat Kats mere moments before enforcers swarmed the building. Battered and bruised, he had limped his way back to his pickup truck, parked a good three hours walk away, and slumped himself into the driver's seat. Lev was nowhere to be seen and, as best as he was able to tell, the vast majority of Artiglio's kats, along with the forces of the better part of the Megakat City crime families, had either been arrested or scattered as part of a rather bold counterattack by The Enforces. To top it all off, the deputy mayor had escaped.

" _Rescued by some scrawny jerk in a flight suit, more like it._ "

His cell phone continued to buzz in his paw. It was Steele, no doubt either wanting an update or intending to bark some new orders at him.

Marco shifted painfully in the seat. As good a shape as he was in, the grey kat was feeling his age. In his twenties, he would have been able to take hits such as what he had just endured in stride, bouncing back instantly. Fast forward two decades, however, and everything ached. His legs, his arms and shoulders, his back, it had all taken a beating.

The phone continued to buzz.

After the fifth ring, Marco thumbed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

"Yeah?"

You idiot!

He knew it had been coming; Steele had gambled an awful lot on the deal with Artiglio. Without the deputy mayor's head on a plate, it would all fall through.

"Look, boss I…"

No, Marco, shut up! I trusted you and that Lev creep to handle things, and now you've gone and done something that will blow us wide open.

"Boss, we can still get Briggs. She was injured, I saw it myself, she's going to need a few days in hospital, there will be guards, but I can…."

Steele's voice calmed noticeably.

Calico Briggs? This has nothing to do with her.

"Then what…?"

Briggs is just a bone we throw to all the jerks we've had to surround ourselves with. I couldn't care less if she lived or died, it's not important. What is important, Marco, is that everything we do remains secret; you knew this when you signed up and you've gone and done something very stupid.

"Sorry, boss, I've got nothing, what are you on about?"

His employer's voice again returned to its aggrieved level.

Do I need to spell it out for you? Perez. You called Perez from that tank you stole. Perhaps if you'd paid attention during your time in the force rather than chalking up official cautions you'd know that everything those tanks do is logged and sent to a central server, including the calling habits of stupid kats who use the radio to call someone's cell phone!

How was he to have known? Until today, he'd never even set foot in an enforcer armoured vehicle, being as he had been a lowly, underpaid patrol officer. That had been the entire reason for bring Lev along.

"Lev…."

What?

"Lev, boss, he recommended I use the radio after my own cell cut out inside the tank."

No excuses, Marco. I don't care who told you to do what; you work for me, not that overweight clown Artiglio, or his thugs. You made this mistake, you have to own it.

There was little use defending himself further, and Steele was at least partially correct. Marco had known that Perez, along with the other kats in Steele's employ, typically used their personal cell phones for business. A false name was only required should one of them fall under investigation, a situation that would cause far greater problems than the account information at a telecommunications company. Additionally, flying under the radar was as much about portraying the image of a fully functional member of society to other kats and, for the most part, that involved acting like a run-of-the-mill salarykat.

At the moment, however, it seemed like the stupidest oversight imaginable.

Regardless, the situation would need to be rectified. With the city still in an upheave, he suspected it would be a good day or two before serious investigation into the issue began in earnest. Plenty of time to hide Perez away. Destroy the cell phone, concoct an alibi and weasel their way out. Marco suspected that Steele wouldn't be where he was were it not for his ability to misdirect and deceive.

"Ok, ok, I'll sort it out, boss. Give me twenty-four hours, I'll get Perez on a train or a plane out of here. We'll hide him for a couple of months until this all blows over; enforcers are going to have more to worry about than a phone call."

Steele's voice went ice cold.

You'll do no such thing, Marco. We're not compromising ourselves over one kat. Contact Perez, have him meet you and take him out.

"Wait! No! He hasn't brought this on himself!"

Can it. The sooner you remember your place the better. You are Perez are assets, expendable assets. Perez just happens to be more expendable than you. Get it done, Gatti.

"Boss…"

Have I been unfair? Am I not paying you enough? Perhaps you need a stronger reminder, perhaps something involving that lovely daughter of yours.

"NO! Ok… I'll get it done."

Glad to hear it. Make sure no-one finds the body; the enforcers absolutely cannot be allowed to gain one inch on us. Understand?

Marco opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He was under no illusions that, in the eyes of most, he was a murderer. Still, even a murderer can have a cause, and for all Steele's preaching about theirs, it was rapidly becoming apparent that one's cause could be pushed aside for the sake of convenience more often than he would have liked.

Perhaps he was fooling himself, perhaps the money was all that mattered.

Understand?

"Yes boss, crystal clear."

Good. I'll give you twelve hours. Oh, and Marco…

"Yeah?"

Good work today.

Marco simply stared at the phone in his paws as the call went dead. He wanted someone to blame for this. Perez, Steele, the Enforcers; anyone who could be held accountable for what were ultimately his actions. He understood well the consequences of betrayal and deceit in this business, but this was different; this was simply an easy way out, the lowest risk option as his employer saw it.

Marco felt a little ill.

Object as he may, however, he was still obliged, both by means of his employment and the increasingly thinly veiled threats leveled against him and his family, to take action. As much as he hated himself for it, he was already planning it out in his head.

" _A few plastic sheets, duffle bag, bleach…_ "

The checklist was short and simple, items that wouldn't raise any questions when purchased from a hardware store. It was something he had done several times in the past.

But not like this.

A few minutes passed before Marco picked up his cell phone once more, flicking through the speed dial options before he came to the number he want.

The phone rang three times before it picked up.

Yes, Gatti residence.

"Hi, it's me, everything with Bianca alright?"

Oh, hey Mr Gatti, yeah it's all cool, I just gave her dinner, cooked up the chicken like you asked.

"Good, thanks. Hey, I really hate to ask, but I need you to watch her for another three hours. Something came up, I'm going to be late home."

Uh… is it, like, really important?

"Yeah, it is. I need you to do this. There's an extra hundred bucks in it for you."

The line was silent for several minutes before the timid response came.

Look, Mr Gatti, Bianca's a real sweet kid and all, but I've got classes tomorrow, I can't be staying up too late.

"Look, I know it's short notice, but if you do this for me, I'll have a bunch more work for you, I'm going to need someone to babysit Bianca quite a bit over the next few months."

The timid response came after several second.

Uh...make it….one fifty, and I've got you covered.

"Sure, sure, just make sure she does her homework."

No problems, Mr Gatti.

"Thanks, can I talk to my daughter for a second?"

The sound of footsteps echoed over the line. A few muffled yells later and the phone crackled as it was picked up.

Hello?

"Hey, kitty-kat."

Daddy!

"Is everything alright at home?"

It's ok, our new house is really big and empty though, I don't like it when you're not home!

"I know, but we can go and buy some more furniture on the weekend. Sound good."

Yeah!

"Have you done your homework?"

All done! Will you be home soon, I want to watch a movie!

The enthusiasm in her voice tore at Marco's heartstrings. Of all the things he hated himself for, this was the worst.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, I'm going to be late again."

But Daddy, you said you'd come home early so we could watch a movie!

"I know, but I've really got to work. The babysitter will put something on for you to watch."

Please, I really don't like it here by myself!

"You're not by yourself, sweetie, Tom is there to watch out for you."

Tom's a jerk!

"Hey, what did I tell you about talking about other kats like that!"

He instantly regretted raising his voice.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry, alright? I'll be as quick as I can. If you've finished your homework by the time I get back, you can have some ice cream. Deal?"

...ok.

"Daddy's gotta go, love you kitty-kat"

I love you too, Daddy.

The phone clicked once more as the call ended. Marco wasted no time in hurling the device into the dashboard before slamming both paws into the steering wheel.

"SHIT!"

* * *

"Sir, she's here."

Feral practically sprinted through the ruined lobby of the Enforcer building, now a makeshift infirmary, towards the small she-kat his subordinates had escorted in. The past few hours had been almost as tense as the attack, waiting for news of injuries and casualties to come in and attempting to provide some semblance of care in the face of an overworked hospital system.

The good news was that Calico Briggs was now safely admitted to Megakat Memorial with minor injuries, under heavy guard by a personally selected cadre of enforcers. With the benefit of hindsight, it was obvious that she had been the primary target of the attack. Despite his best efforts, her life seemed in a constant state of danger; something he doubted would be changing any time soon.

The bad news was that his niece was missing.

Feral towered over the small she-kat. His voice as calm as he could manage in his emotive state, the large kat's eyes bore down upon her as he spoke.

"What's your name, rookie?"

The she-kat fidgeted nervously the hem of her torn and dirty uniform shirt, her eyes affixed to a point some feet behind him as she replied.

"Uh...Trooper Sharpe, sir. Abigail Sharpe."

"Ok, Sharpe." replied Feral. "Where's my niece? Where's Captain Feral?"

Abby's eyes darted about the room, taking in both the damage and the plethora of injured enforces laid across the floor.

"I…"

"Spit it out!"

"I don't know sir!" she yelled, shutting her eyes in an attempt to drive out the unwanted sights and sounds. "She hopped in the jet and…"

"Jet?" asked Feral, his eyes narrowing. "Do you meant the Swat Kat's jet?"

Abby simply nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

Ignoring her clearly distressed state, Feral pushed forward with his questions.

"And where did they go?"

"I don't know, sir!" she replied. "There was so much shooting, I was hiding, I didn't see!"

As Feral opened his mouth with his next question, one of the escorting officers, a medic, stepped forward, her paw held up in a defiant, dismissive gesture.

"Sir," she began, starting the commander in the eyes, "trooper Sharpe has suffered a great deal of stress today, I can't allow you to question her in this manner. She needs a quiet, low intensity environment for the next twenty four hours, then you two can have a chat."

The corner of Feral's mouth curled ever so slightly upwards, the beginnings of a snarl forming across his face. He knew his medical officer was right, and in the circumstances, her professional medical opinion overrode any official commands or orders he may give.

"Very well." he said, turning his back on the trio of kats. "Let me know when she improves. Until then, I want everyone not involved with triage or treatment on search duty; we're finding the Turbokat."

"At once, Sir."

He hadn't taken three steps when Abby's voice piped up behind him, this time slightly more certain and firm.

"Uh...commander, sir?"

Feral turned back to face her.

"Yes, Sharpe?"

"I… I don't want to be an enforcer anymore."

* * *

Steele surveyed his new surrounding with a look of smug satisfaction creeping across his face. His new base of operations, its acquisition several months in the making, was as well suited for his needs as he could ask for.

The former site of Megakat Metallurgical was located some twenty miles beyond the city limits in an area seldom travelled, save for the few small mines that dotted the landscape. The remote location, along with the myriad of legal troubles that the company had found itself in after the arrest of its former President, had allowed Steele to purchase the company acreage for a fraction of what it would otherwise be worth.

For his purposes, the mine itself was unimportant. The small office building, little more than a series of demountables, would be useful, as would the large equipment sheds. The most important feature, however, and indeed the reason why Steele had chosen this location, was the fact that the terrain was flat enough to land aircraft on.

Stolen aircraft.

A few minor hiccups aside, everything had gone perfectly. The city was in chaos; The Enforcers would be chasing after the mob for the foreseeable future, thinking that they had made a serious attempt on the life of the deputy mayor. On the other side, Artiglio and his thugs would have their paws full dealing with the fallout of their actions. Callie Briggs may still be alive, but that was almost preferable, at least as far as Steele was concerned.

There was much to be done before he could proceed to the next portion of his plan; kats and materiel would need to be relocated and stored, the sheds would need to be cleaned out and equipped for aircraft maintenance. It would likely take him several weeks.

For the moment, however, he would wait. All the planning of the past few months was paying off today, and Steele was content to sit back and enjoy the show as he waited for the delivery of the stolen enforcer jets. And, of course, there was the little present he left at his old warehouse.

Perhaps a drink was in order.

* * *

As he had many times in the past, Marco found himself at that same motel. It was the scene of his first ever job, a messy affair he'd rather forget. It had seen him through troubling times on more than one occasion, being as it were of little interest to enforcers beyond the occasional katnip bust. It was known by locals mostly for it's cheap rates, by the hour no less, and cheaper company.

Despite the opportunity presented to him by several hours of downtime and an ever-enthusiastic she-kat, this was one occasion upon which a tumble with Carla was far from Marco's mind.

The call to Perez had been easy enough, a simple request for a meeting, quips about the incompetence of the Enforcers smoothing over any potential pitfalls with what was, despite it's past usefulness, a rather insecure location. Both had expected that such a debrief would be required, given how unlikely their chances of a perfect success were. Perez would certainly know by know that Callie Briggs had escaped unharmed, or at least alive, and would be eager to plan their next steps.

Marco absent mindedly turned the remote over in his paws, gazing listlessly at the television as it droned away, the sounds of late-night soap operas hopefully drowning out the sounds of what he knew was mere minutes away.

The kat at the hardware store had perhaps been a little suspicious; it wasn't every day that someone purchased bleach, a shovel and a few dozen square feet of black plastic sheeting. Still, paying cash with a hefty tip was enough to get most minimum wage workers to look the other way for a few moments.

"Hey cutie, you wanna go, I've got an hour free."

The sudden voice from the other side of the closed motel room door jolted him from his stupor.

"Get outta here."

Despite drawing the blinds, the very fact that his truck was parked directly outside suggested to the she-kats who made this motel their 'office' for their evening rounds that he was looking to hire their services.

"Aww, c'mon, you won't regret it."

Marco slammed his foot into the door, rattling the cheap plywood in its frame.

"Jerk."

The grey kat continued to wait, fidgeting with the handle of his knife having replaced the remote upon the cheap TV stand. Several times he rose to his feet, pacing about the room while checking the plastic sheets now covering the entirety of the motel room floor, peering out through the thinly slatted blinds as he did so.

" _He's late._ "

Several tense minutes passed before Marco heard the sounds of tires on gravel. The blinds were briefly illuminated by high-powered headlights before the sound of the engine died, followed by the opening and closing of a car door.

A few footsteps later and there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Yo, it's Perez, open up sir!"

Marco's heart thundered in his chest as he approached the door, clutching the knife firmly in his paw. Pressing his back to the wall adjacent the door, he flicked the lock and removed the security chain.

The door swung inwards.

"Hey, sir, sorry for the wait, you wouldn't believe the…"

The blade flashed out, swinging downwards in an arc towards Perez's gut. Before he could complete his sentence, the knife had embedded itself in his abdomen all the way to the hilt. As was so common in such situations, the sheer shock of the injury numbed the initial pain. Perez glanced downward, his last few words trailing into nothingness.

Marco wasted no time in tearing the blade upward, cutting through Perez's liver and stomach before yanking it clean just below his rib cage. With a kick, he slammed the door closed and moved in behind his victim.

Perez found his voice.

"Marco, wait!"

Whatever was to follow, he would never know. With a second, vicious kick, Marco swept Perez's legs from under him, his free paw shooting upwards and clamping around his mouth. Heaving upwards and backward, the downward motion of Perez's body overextended his neck, exposing the most vital and vulnerable part of his body.

Without pausing, Marco violently sank the the bloodied knife into the side of Perez's neck, sawing and cutting horizontally, severing the trachea, oesophagus and both jugulars in a crude motion. Its head nearly severed, the lifeless body of Steele's now-former employee; Marco's colleague, collapsed forward and landed with a dull thud, blood pouring out onto the plastic sheeting.

Marco wiped the knife off on the back of Perez's jacket.

"Sorry, buddy."

* * *

It had been a while since he had broken into his own home. The salvage yard had a lone security camera watching over the entrance, a camera whose footage he and his partner were expected to send to headquarters once a month for archiving. Dressed as he was in his Swat Kat gear, even the small chance that someone would actually look at the footage was a chance not worth taking.

Razor landed deftly, his feet touching familiar ground.

The enforcers, while letting him good, had not been particularly helpful when questioned about the whereabouts of his partner. He was confident that T-Bone was safe, the side effect of the big kats insistence in the preservation of their jet being that he, in his refusal to leave the aircraft, would remain intact so long as it did.

" _Wasn't looking all that flash when I jumped out._ "

Still, it had been a tough day for the pair of vigilantes. Razor was sore and tired, and needing nothing more than a solid twelve hours of sleep. T-Bone had likely put the jet down somewhere remote, rather than risk and dangerous tunnel landing. The Turbokat had been, after all, barely airworthy when they left.

A short run later and Razor was greeted with the familiar site of their workshop.

Fishing the spare key from its hiding spot, Razor opened their garage door and subsequent hanger access covering and descended into the dark. A few moments later and he re-emerged, now devoid of his flight suit and dressed in a pair of tracksuit pants and loose fitting

Tank-top.

Jake never made it up the stairs and into his bedroom; the small kat simply crashed into their waiting room sofa and slipped into a deep slumber.

It was well past midnight by the time Marco pulled his pickup into the driveway of his newly-purchased home. Perhaps it was his age, but digging a hole in the middle of the desert and dumping a body had turned out to be far more arduous and affair than he would have guessed. Then came the bleaching and hosing down of his truck's cargo tray. After showering off back at the motel and changing into his spare clothes, Maro was thoroughly exhausted.

The truck ground to a halt.

He sat motionless for several moments, gazing out at his home. A single window was illuminated on the upper floor, no doubt his daughter engrossing herself in their sixty-inch television, shameless flouting her bedtime. The babysitter would have long since left, no doubt leaving a note reminding Marco of the fifty dollars an hour overtime he had promised.

Marco finally stepped from his vehicle, slowly walking the steps to his front door. A final check over of himself, ensuring that he was clean of dirt and blood, followed, before he produced his keys and unlocked the door.

"Sweetie, I'm home!"

"Daddy!"

The small she-kat, not even four feet tall, came tearing down the stairs, her feet pattering softly on the marble floor.

"Hey, kitty-kat, you should be in bed." Said Marco, scooping his daughter into his arms.

"You said you'd bring me ice cream!"

Marco mentally kicked himself.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, the convenience store was out. We've got a bit of cake left, would you like some?"

The small kat nodded enthusiastically.

"Good, I'll go cut you a slice. Get yourself ready for bed and I'll bring it up to you."

"Thank you, Daddy."

* * *

Author's notes:  
There we are, next chapter up nice and quick for you guys! Just a short one, keeping things moving while I get the next few major plot events sorted out.

What happened to T-Bone and Felina? Is Callie OK? Stay tuned and find out!

On a side note, does anyone think I'm delivering too much of my dialogue through conversations over the phone or radio? Just something I noticed, but perhaps other people don't mind. Let me know!

As always, really appreciate reviews and comments, positive or otherwise. You guys are awesome!

Also have another short story coming your way! Been a bit slow on that one but I'll have it up soon.

Cheers!  
-AR


	15. Chapter 14 - Family Matters

"I thought you said Gatti was good?"

"Sir, I can personally attest to Mr Gatti's expertise having witnessed his prowess first hand, albeit at an earlier stage in his career. May I venture, if you would permit it, that the difficulties experienced by our forces yesterday were in no small part due to the unforeseen arrival of the vigilante team known as the Swat Kats."

A paperweight sailed past Lev's head, missing by a good two feet and slamming into the wall behind him.

"Don't give me that crud!" Bellowed Gus Artiglio, his chin wobbling with fury as he spoke. "I know all about the Swat Kats; why do you think we've had to keep our heads down all these years? Them and Dark Kat!"

Lev glanced briefly over the obese kat's desk, wary of any additional projectiles, before returning his unblinking gaze to his employer.

"Mr Artiglio." he continued. "We are yet to ascertain the full extent of our casualties; it would be prudent to wait until accusations of incompetency are made. Additionally, I would add that despite the unfortunate outcome of yesterday's actions, we did, and still do, have an agreement in place with Mr Tugger…"

"Steele." Interrupted Artiglio. "It's Steele, he's not hiding behind that Tugger crap."

"Be that as it may, our agreement must stand if we are to maintain our position over the other families. I implore you, sir, that we do not act so hurriedly as to diminish our standing."

Artiglio heft his vast bulk from his plush leather chair, groaning slightly as he rose to his feet. With a few, waddling steps he made his way to his well stocked liquor cabinet.

"What standing might that be, Lev?" He asked, pouring himself a generous glass of amber liquid. "I can't count how many kats we're going to have end up Alkatraz over this…"

He took a large gulp.

"...or in the ground."

"Mr Steele is very clearly, or at least so far as I have observed, operating via a drastically different set of principals. To be perhaps a little curt; Mr Steele does not respect our established order, nor does he intend to act within the bounds of his newly established position within the hierarchy. He is, without a doubt, dangerous, but that is not to say he is dangerous to us."

"That's curt?" said Artiglio, taking another swig of his drink.

"My apologies." replied Lev. "I merely wished to highlight this fact so as to compare it to your own position; your actions carry weight; as does your word. You are respected, and those under you seek to emulate your methods. This must be maintained, or we risk open rebellion among the lesser families. The Enforcers will, beyond any doubt, step up their own efforts to bring about our downfall, but so long as you stand by your actions, even those taken as conditional aspects to agreements made with recalcitrant third parties, no-one will question your authority."

Artiglio blinked several times.

"Perhaps the phrase 'stick to your guns' is appropriate." said Lev. "Would you not agree?"

"I do." came the reply. "And I don't need you to tell me that. What I do need is someone to do what Gatti could not."

"Sir, while I do not wish to be presumptuous, I am unconvinced that Calico Briggs need be eliminated at this point in time, rather, given our precarious situation I…"

"LEV!" shot Artiglio, hurling his now-empty glass towards the white kat "I won't have your insubordination! Don't forget the risk I took bringing you into the family, your history is...stained. Remember your place! Anyway, I'm not talking about Briggs, she can wait. No, I mean Feral; we might be hurting, but so are The Enforcers. We can strike this blow while they're down. Can I trust you in this matter?"

"Yes, absolutely. Again I apologise; I simply want what is best for the family. Do you not pay me for my counsel?"

The large kat narrowed his eyes. "Don't think your nose is clean in all this, Lev, how am I to know that you and Gatti didn't make some deal behind my back? I know you two have history, and in my experience, even distant ties have some meaning."

"I assure you," replied Lev, "were my loyalties to lie outside of your employ, they would not be with Mr Gatti. The craftsman selects the tool, not the other way round."

"Not quite the answer I wanted, but it will have to do. See to it that Feral has a nasty accident, and I mean really nasty."

"Of course."

Lev, politely nodding his head towards his employer, about-faced and swiftly marched from the office. Artiglio's villa, while modest by the standards of his contemporaries, was still a sizeable complex; well adorned with gardens and patios and nestled among the most choice rise of Megakat Hills. Paying little attention to the multitude of guards, the journey to his waiting vehicle took some two minutes.

The snow white kat didn't release his grip from his concealed pistol until he had left the property.

* * *

It would be a shame to junk the car.

Marco revved the engine, eliciting a guttural, throaty growl from the exhaust as his entire body vibrated in time with the big block V8. While the grey kat had only a passing interest in cars, even he had to admit it was a nice set of wheels. A little beat up, to be the sure, the paintwork having fallen victim to the occupational hazards of their work on more than one occasion, yet overall, the car was in good condition.

Not for much longer.

The most difficult part of his morning so far had been finding a cab to take him from his home to the motel where Perez's vehicle had been left stranded. With the city still reeling from the events of the previous day, the streets were near empty of the typical traffic, save for an exceptionally heavy enforcer presence. However, even The Enforcers could not be everywhere, and no-one was going to notice an abandoned vehicle at a run-down motel on the outskirts of town, not with the current air of paranoia hanging about the city's authorities.

Which was exactly why he was taking the vehicle to a decrepit salvage yard outside the city limits. Simply burning or dumping the vehicle would arouse suspicion, plates and VINs would be checked, and potential links established. Of course, the vehicle would eventually be discovered, sitting unattended and unnoticed among the wrecks and scrap, but it would be years before this occurred. The inevitable investigation undertaken by The Enforcers would leave no stone unturned, but in their search, they would leave such places until last.

After all, any self-respecting crim went out of their way to destroy evidence.

In truth, disposal of Perez's vehicle was of little concern to Marco, having been woken that morning by a short, rather irate call from Steele. There was more work to be done, work that Steele insisted Marco undertake. The grey kat had several inklings as to its nature; it was unlikely to be pleasant, even when compared to the increasingly violent nature of his employment, and would doubtless result in yet another body on an ever increasing pile.

Marco gripped the wheel tighter.

After some thirty minutes of driving, he pulled the car off the highway and onto a small access road, its uneven surface punctured by potholes and ruts. The vehicle bounced and ricocheted off the surface, Marco caring little for the condition of the suspension as it repeatedly bottomed out.

A short time later and he arrived at the closed gates of the salvage yard.

The sign several miles back advertised the yard as being open from seven thirty in the morning, yet the gates were very much chained and locked. Marco checked his watch.

" _One in the afternoon…_ "

Exiting the vehicle and glancing about, Marco's eyes scanned over the entranceway and fell upon a small, rusted intercom box. Walking over, he slammed his fist into the call button.

Almost thirty seconds passed before the answer came.

Uh, hi, welcome to Jake and Chance's garage.

* * *

Commander Ulysses Feral was haggard.

He had not slept a wink, having spent the entire night in a state of near-panic, furiously attempting to both bring some semblance of order to the besieged city and located his wayward niece. A thousand and one issues, both minor and major, required his attention. Damage to the city was extensive, as it was to enforcer facilities. Equipment was either destroyed or missing, and casualties counts, injuries and otherwise, continued to mount.

Perhaps worst of all was the steady stream of resignations.

Danger to life and limb were part of the job; all enforcers knew that. While the risk levels of the past two years may well have diminished, they were still play a very dangerous game. Recent events served only to remind them of that, and when such a reminder came, there were those who decided that it was simply too much.

Already he had officially discharged four patrol officers from enforcer service, citing mental trauma, and suspected at least another twenty would be done by the end of the day. Alone, this wasn't unusual; some kats simply couldn't handle the stress of losing a friend or colleague, and Feral didn't begrudge them for it. The sheer scale of what had befallen them, however, was most certainly not among usual occurrences.

Sir.

The intercom on his desk buzzed; he had lost track of how many times it had done so since yesterday. It seemed every issue he delegated, resolved or made a decision on merely made way for ten more.

"Yes, what is it?" he replied, the weariness in his voice mercilessly apparent.

It might be best if I came in, sir.

"Very well."

The door to Feral's office swung open. Two kats marched through, one a Captain that Feral instantly recognised, the other wearing a suit. From the expression on his subordinate's face, the large kat could only guess that, like almost everything else that had transpired today, this was far from good news.

"Captain." He said, nodding to the enforcer officer. "Who might our guest be?"

Before the response could come, the suited kat strode confidently forward, slamming a thick stack of documents upon Feral's desk.

"Commander." he begun. "Dennis Mouser, deputy chairkat of the Megakat City Civic Security Authority. I've had the… pleasure of being the prime respondent to your occasional letter. I'm sure you have been expecting a visit from us, after our emergency meeting this morning we…"

"Get to the point." spat Feral, cutting the suited kat off mid-sentence.

A look of mild annoyance crept across the kat's face before he continued.

"Very well, Commander." he said. "To cut to the chase, concerns have been raised over your handling of recent events. We are not convinced that your command decisions have been in the best interests of The Enforcers or Megakat city."

Feral rose to his feet, his weariness suddenly gone.

"What are you saying? What is all this about?"

Dennis took a step backward, glancing over his shoulder at the enforcer captain.

"Understand, commander, that the operations of law enforcement in this city must have civilian oversight. The kats of the city would lose trust in the enforcers if they were simply left to their own devices. Recent events, however, have eroded that trust. The Mayor has been most insistent about not allowing the city to fall into crisis over the mismanagement of The Enforcers."

"You expect me to believe that?" Said Feral. "When has Manx ever shown concern over anything beyond his own career? Talk to the deputy mayor, she'll set you straight."

"Miss Briggs is unfortunately indisposed at the moment." continued Dennis. "The security authority does not wish to place undue burden upon her while she recovers from her injury. Mayor Manx was happy to delegate this decision to us."

"And what decision might that be?"

"We….we are of the opinion that the Megakat City enforcers are in need of new leadership, it is clear that you are unable to handle the responsibilities of command in the face of a more subtle threat. We…"

"SUBTLE?!" screamed Feral, his giant paw swatting the documents aside. "You call what's happened out there subtle?! I'm not going to stand here and take this from the likes of you. All you do is sit in your high tower and tell me how to do my job! You want to really help? Go downstairs and grab yourself a medi-kit, I'm sure there's some poor kid with a shattered leg who could use a patch up."

"Commander. Getting angry at me won't do you any good, you forget that the 'poor kid' you refer to is only in this position because of orders you have him."

Feral swiftly strode around his desk to come face to face with the suited kat, towered over him by a good foot and a half.

"Captain." he spoke, the rage in his voice barely contained. "Our guest is done here, please see him escorted from the building, I'm sure he has meetings to attend and cannot afford to be late."

"Sir."

Feral turned his back on the kat when the final quip came.

"What about your niece, Feral? Are you going to chalk her death up to standard operational procedure?"

For a brief moment, all the burdens and responsibilities of command were lifted from Feral's shoulders. His fist flew outward as he swivelled on the spot, delivering a thunderous blow to the jawline of the suited kat. The impact drove Dennis from his feet and deposited him some feet away. Sprawled out on his back, he sat up, wiping a stream of blood from his mouth. Had the blow been much harder, and he would have, as a near certainly, been knocked clean out.

It was several moments before he found his voice.

"Feral! What do you think... do you expect to get away with this?"

"Captain." said Feral, his voice now markedly composed. "Did you see anything happen here that might be cause for concern?"

"Not a thing, sir."

"Good."

"You can't…"

Again, Feral cut the suited kat off.

"Get out."

Dennis Mouser awkwardly scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. The two remaining kats stood in silence for several moments before the Captain spoke.

"Sir, that wasn't wise."

"I know." Replied Feral. "But I don't think it's going to make much difference in the end, the security authority suits clearly have it in for me."

"I noticed."

Feral retraced his steps to his desk before fishing out a small, unassuming folder and opening to the first page.

"Captain." he said, the tiredness and despondency once again returning to his voice. "I need to talk to Callie Briggs. Do what you need to, but we're going to need her if we're to make it out of this mess."

"At once, sir!"

The captain remained rooted to the spot.

"Is there something else."

His expression turning to one of slight hesitation, the enforcer captain spoke, his words softer and more carefully chosen than before.

"Sir...we, have a few issues with… resource allocation. You set half the search and rescue division onto finding Captain Feral."

Feral looked up at his subordinate, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I...sir." continued the captain. "We need them here. I am confident that she is alright, but we can't afford to be spending resources on a single officer at this point. We'll be equipped to start a proper search in a few days, but for now, we need everyone we can get our paws on here."

Feral looked down at his paws.

"Sir?"

"Call it off.

* * *

The intercom jolted Jake awake with a buzz.

Early afternoon sun shone brightly through the windows of the waiting room, hitting the orange kat square in the face. He winced as he rose from the sofa, rubbing his eyes before stretching out.

" _And I thought I was sore yesterday..._ "

Everything hurt. The sharp pains of the previous day's exertions had been replaced by dull, throbbing aches, courtesy of some twelve hours of near motionless sleep.

The intercom continued to buzz.

Blinking several times, Jake stumbled forward, yet to find his footing upon his still weakened legs. Grasping at the doorframe to steady himself, he glanced upward at the slowly ticking clock mounted on the wall of the reception area.

" _Crud!_ "

It was well past midday, over five hours since they were due to open. Jake had not anticipated receiving customers, given the events of the previous day, yet there was most certainly a kat waiting for service. Still, business had not been so good recently as to warrant turning away a potential client simply because he had had a poor night's sleep. A single engine tune-up would pay their electricity bill for a month, and Jake knew that he and his partner were sorely wanting for steady income.

"Hey Chance, we got…"

For a few moments, blissful save for the pain coursing through every inch of his body, it was just another day. No Swat Kat duties to worry about, no city or deputy mayor to save, just him and his partner, running a down-and-out business, getting by.

But Chance was not there.

It was natural to expect that his partner would have returned during the night; no matter the situation they found themselves in, they had always come out on top, or at least escaped. Even if their jet were to be a complete write-off, T-Bone would saunter in, complaining loudly about the need to rebuild the jet, blaming Feral for taking credit yet again, or just selecting and spouting a few choice boasts. The lack of any of this, or even an indication of where his partner may be, or what condition their beloved jet may be in, filled Jake with an uneasy anxiety.

The intercom buzzed again.

Jake's heart rate increased slightly. In his head, he formulated a number of potential scenarios; if they wanted a tune up, he'd book them an appointment for later; an urgent repair, and his explanation would simply be that his partner was not available. A simple oil change or the like would be easy enough to handle. He hesitated momentarily, his paw hovering over the intercom. Like it or not, the current situation demanded that he push T-Bone from his mind, assume that Chance was simply unavailable, and deal with this very real, very current business need.

Jake answered on the fourth buzz.

"Uh, hi, welcome to Jake and Chance's garage."

The response came, slightly gruff, but with an element of weariness about it.

I thought you guys were closed. Do you buy wrecks?

"Yeah, we do." responded Jake, a wave of relief washing over him. The job would be simple after all.

Good, I've got a car here I need taken off my paws, wanna have a look?

"Sure, sure, let me get the gate for you. I'll be down in five minutes."

Smoothing over his ruffled fur as best he could, Jake scooped his cap and keychain off the reception counter and made for the tow truck. The drive to the front gate of the salvage yard was slow, a still tired and bleary-eyed Jake unwilling to hurry for the sake of purchasing a single wrecked car. The sun stung at his eyes as he rounded the final, mountainous junk heap, the tow truck clanging over the last few ruts in the road before grinding to a halt just inside the chain link fence.

Jake killed the engine and stepped from the truck.

"Hey there, sorry about the wait, it's been…"

Jake froze.

The grey kat, the very same he had encountered in the blasted ruin of Callie's apartment building, was nonchalantly waiting for him to open the gate, his expression one of distant disinterest.

" _Crud...crud…_ "

The only object within reach that even remotely resembled a weapon was a heavily worn tire iron in the back of the tow truck. Even if he were able to retrieve it without arousing suspicion, the grey kat stood at least a dozen yards away, on the other side of a chain linked fence. Judging by the speed and agility he had displayed during the previous encounter, the orange kat didn't fancy his chances.

And this wasn't even taking into account the fact that he was more than likely armed.

"Yo! The gate?"

Jake took a cautious step towards the gate, keeping his eyes fixed on the grey kat. Outwardly, he showed no signs of having identified the Swat Kat, but the feeling that his arrival here was too much a coincidence was simply too strong to shake.

"Everything all right?" the grey kat asked, his expression transforming to one of a quizzical nature.

"Uh… yeah." responded Jake, briefly averting his eyes as he slipped the appropriate key into the padlock. "Just didn't get a lot of sleep after….uh….after everything that happened yesterday."

"Nasty stuff."

The gate swung open with a rusty creak.

Almost immediately, Jake stepped back, his paw instinctively flexing about the glovatrix he was not wearing. A cursory glance about the access road suggested that the pair were alone, or at least out of sight of anyone who might be nearby. The grey kat walked through, slowly approaching Jake.

His paw went to his jacket pocket.

Jake's heart pounded, there had to be something nearby, something to defend himself. Anything.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look like you haven't sleep in a week."

The grey kat was now face to face with Jake, their height difference necessitating the the smaller of the two crane his neck.

"Um...sorry. See...my partner, he was hurt yesterday, kinda hard to run the place without him."

For a fleeting moment, an expression of genuine concern, almost sorrowful, flashed over the grey kat's face. A gun for hire, of that Jake had no doubt, but not heartless it seemed.

"Sorry to hear that."

"...thanks."

"Anyway." continued the kat, motioning to the vehicle idling just outside the gate "I've got this old thing here that I need gone, you want it?"

Seizing the opportunity to remove himself from the immediate presence of the grey kat, Jack walked over to the vehicle. While unlikely to fetch a noteworthy price if sold to a dealer, there was nothing outwardly wrong with it, save for a series of minor dents and scrapes along the fender. Had his customer been unknown to him, Jake would most certainly be asking why such a vehicle needed to be scrapped.

Of course, he had a pretty good idea; vehicles could be an extremely inconvenient piece of evidence for kats such as the one who stood before him.

"Well, thing is." began Jake, regaining his professionalism and composure. "We're not exactly a car dealership here, and this seems to be running alright. If you want to get rid of it, I can give you three hundred for it."

"Deal."

More than anything else, it was the sudden agreeance that took Jake aback. In all his years, the number of times a customer had simply agreed to the offered price for a wreck could be counted on the fingers on one paw. Kats tended to have an overinflated sense of the worth of their vehicles, or at least that had been the case in his experience. Regardless, he wasn't about to protest or complain, he wanted this transaction to be over as quickly as possible, and he suspected the same of the grey kat.

"Alright, follow me up to the workshop, you'll need to fill in some paperwork and…"

The grey kat stepped forward, his body language suddenly menacing.

"Look, pal." he started, his voice a little low, as if someone would overhear. "It's a little embarrassing, but this is actually my ex-wife's car. It's not really supposed to be in one piece, or at least that's what my insurance company thinks. Keep your three hundred, I just want this thing gone."

Jake raised an eyebrow.

"So...you want me to help you commit insurance fraud?"

"Oh no." came the reply. "Forget I said anything, it just doesn't seem to me that this car is worth three hundred dollars."

The grey kat bent down, grasping an errant piece of scrap in his paw and violently swinging downward, smashing a wing mirror clean from the chassis.

"See? It's damaged."

Another swing and the windscreen was spiderwebbed."

"Don't think anyone would really want to buy this, do you?"

Jake took a few further steps back as the kat let loose on the vehicle, taking off the remaining wing mirror, along with the windows and headlights.

"I guess you could use this for scrap, maybe the steel is worth something?"

Tossing his improvised weapon aside, the grey kat turned his back on Jack and strode through the open gates.

"Do me a favour, will you?" He said, pausing briefly. "Call me a cab."

* * *

Steele turned the cell phone over in his paw.

[Vehicle records taken care of. Remember my request.]

The former enforcer knew better than to question why such an individual had taken an interest in his activities. The how and why of this kat's abilities remained a mystery to him, a state of affairs that, while not ideal for him, was tolerable for the moment. In time, this relationship would cease to function, an eventuality Steele was preparing for in as discreet a manner as possible. He may have eluded the authorities thus far, but he was certainly not at the top of the intelligence game.

Outside such concerns, which he begrudgingly admitted were beyond his control, everything was falling nicely into place. One final act would be required, and the stage would be set.

For the moment, longer term preparations would have to be briefly put on hold to deal with the small issue presented to him by his contact. He had been told it was a matter of some urgency, although the manner in which it had been described suggested a personal slant, something his contact had taken issue with.

Rather, someone.

It would be a simple matter to deal with, and no better time than the current.

A few swipes of his thumb and he pressed his phone to his ear.

Yeah.

"Mr Gatti, you've another job to do."

###

Abigail Sharpe stumbled into the cool evening air.

"W..well..shcrew yoush too! Ya place iza...dump!"

What had been a simple stop for lunch, a small treat after freeing herself from enforcer service, had lasted into the early hours of evening. The fact of not having to work that evening, combined with a generous happy hour offer, had seen the she-kat throw back two bottles of wine along with a few cocktails. Ever boisterous even while sober, she had seen herself thrown out of the venue after a particularly loud proclamation of the failings of the city's justice system.

The concrete sidewalk, however, was rather comfortable.

Abby rolled over, her head swimming. Staggering to her feet, the young she-kat meandered down the street, occasionally bumping into a passerby. Whatever looks of disapproval she may have received, she didn't notice; the parts of her thought process that remained lucid were fixated on her friend.

Correction, friends.

Desperately, she willed these thoughts from her mind. Her current inebriation had erased most of the concern, but her head still swam with what-ifs and maybes. Artie had been difficult to deal with, certainly, but Felina's situation had filled her with unanswered questions.

" _Fel fel…_ "

A trio of enforcers pushed their way past. Despite her obvious intoxication, they simply passed her by, the usual banter and and witticisms of a typically leisurely afternoon patrol replaced with severe expressions and an apparent disregard for minor infractions.

Abby could hardly blame them; at least they had stuck at it.

Several minutes and a mere hundred yards later, Abby arrived at her parked hatchback. While driving back to the enforcer accommodation block in such a state was out of the question, sleeping in a car was preferable to a night on the sidewalk. She fished her keys from her pocket and thrust them at the door. Missing by a good foot, the key deflected off the car door, falling from her paw in the process. Unperturbed, Abby backed up, glaring at the car as if it had somehow slighted her, scolding the offending contraption with a wave of her finger.

The world around her spun faster, the lights of traffic flashing past, the occasional horn blasting in her ears.

Her composure finally leaving her, Abby fell to her knees and retched violently.

* * *

Razor clutched at the handlebars as he weaved the cyclotron through the relatively empty backstreets of a city still in a state of shock. Though late, well past the evening rush, the complete lack of both pedestrian and vehicular traffic gave the city an eerily sedate ambience. Razor didn't like it. The cyclotron had been a risk. Even with the apparent disinterest, if only temporary, that the Enforcers were showing in serving Feral's long-standing arrest warrant, the lone vigilante felt vulnerable.

Especially without his partner to back him up.

Turning sharply to avoid a patrol cruiser and taking advantage of the fact that another would not be encountered for several blocks, Razor twisted the throttle handle and raced forward. Storefronts and apartment buildings, windows lit yet curtains drawn and shut, whipped past. Out here as he was, however serene, however undisturbed the city may have felt, he was simply unable to shake an ever increasing feeling of apprehension. The mere fact that he now skulked about after dark, darting down alleyways and backstreets, rather than take the fight to his foes as he and his partner had done in years prior, was testament to the changing nature of their conflict.

" _...all the criminal scum who rear their ugly heads in Megakat City._ "

He had been musing over those very words, spoken to his partner and lifelong friend years prior, when they had first taken up their high-tech vigil. For as long as they had both been Swat Kats, that mantra had held.

" _...rear their ugly heads..._ "

Now, the only face he had was that of the grey kat's, a face he was certain was far from the driving force behind this spate of attacks. As before, his enemy had been presented to him, in plain view, standing proud. Yet time and time again, he found himself unable to act. Frozen by indecision during the encounter in Callie's residency building, the second time faced with his own unwillingness to compromise his identity, 'their way' was becoming increasingly inadequate.

The Swat Kats could no longer do this alone.

However, with a rapidly dwindling list of allies, his partners current whereabouts notwithstanding, he was turning to the last kat he could trust to act in the best interests of the city.

And he hated himself for having to do it.

Of course, he had justified what was no doubt going to be a rather alarming visit with the excuse that he was simply checking up on her. After all, she was in there by his actions.

Razor rounded the final corner. Megakat Memorial lay two blocks dead ahead.

As with their visit to Felina Feral, simply walking in was out of the question. The entire building was under enforcer lockdown. Officers guarded all ground entrances and patrol cruisers waited nearby, ready to spring into action should the call be made. While unlikely to cause anything more than a minor incident, Razor had little expectation that his presence there would be welcome, should he be noticed.

And so, he climbed.

Surprisingly, he felt good. As sore and worn out as he may have been that very morning, a day of relative rest had reinvigorated the orange kat's body. If anything, the recovery had kicked his physique back into action, slightly increasing his fitness and endurance. Still a far cry from his former self, his small frame barely filling out his flight suit, he nevertheless felt energetic.

Stealthily, Razor dashed along the low-lying rooftops towards the towering monolith of the hospital building. Several enforcers had been stations here, yet were either too bored or simply not alert enough to notice the passing of the small kat. A tense few minutes later and he stood opposite the main entrance, gazing down at the plethora of law enforcement officers from his vantage point. A firm breeze whisked about the building, and would serve well to mask the sounds of his glovatrix.

As he had done so many times before, he raised his paw and fired; the grapple shooting out, trailing a long, high-tensile wire behind it. The hooked device latched onto a window washing platform approximately half way up the building. The remaining distance, he would have to climb.

His journey upward went unnoticed. The climb was relatively easy, thanks in no small part to the aging design of the building, festooned with a multitude of fixings, from drainpipes to air conditioning units, along with several exhaust vent gratings. The rooftop itself was bare save for the lone access door which Razor quickly opened.

The distinctive smell of disinfectant, ubiquitous to all hospitals, hit his nose.

"Hmmmm?"

A bored looking hospital worker, pushing an empty gurney down a deserted corridor, paused briefly as Razor dashed from the stairwell and into an empty suite.

"Anyone there?"

Razor briefly considered smashing the window to escape, but such an action would almost certainly attract the attention of the enforcers. Hiding was his only option.

The orderly entered the suite, gurney abandoned, just as Razor slipped under a hospital bed.

" _Nothing here, buddy..._ "

After an uncomfortably long pause, the orderly reached for a radio attached to his belt.

" _No, don't do that!_ "

"Uh, sergeant." he began, his voice unsure. "I think I might have heard something up here and…"

Razor burst from beneath the bed.

"Woah, pal, no need to do that!" he said as loudly as he dared, vigorously waving his arms. "Let's just put the radio away, ok?"

The orderly stared at him for several seconds, thumb still on the transmit button.

Hello?

"Um, nevermind, someone left a window open."

The radio clattered to the ground.

"Holy crud!" the orderly shouted, eyes going wide. "You're one of the Swat Kats!"

"Uh, yeah, uh… name's Razor."

The orderly nearly knocked him over, grasping his paw in a firm pawshake.

"Wow, I never thought I'd actually get to meet one of you guys!" he said, vigourously shaking Razor's paw. "What are you going here."

"I need to talk to someone." Razor answered, extracting his paw from the orderly's grasp. "She's in here."

"Oh...um...friend of yours?"

"You could say that."

"Well." continued the orderly, his voice dropping noticeably in pitch. "We've got an awful lot of kats in here, an awful lot."

"I know." Said Razor. "I… was there when it all happened."

"Really!? Oh thank god! Kats have been really worried, Mr Razor, nobody has seen you guys in a while and it's been so hard lately, no-one knows how to handle what's going on. It's so good to hear that you're back and all! Thank you so much for everything you've done!"

"Hey, thank me when we've got this mess sorted out. Look... uh…."

"Tim!"

"Tim. I could use some help. I've got to find Callie Briggs, there's something important I need to talk to her about. Do you know what room she's in."

"Sure do, Mr Razor!" said Tim, the enthusiasm returning to his voice. "But you might have a hard time getting in. Whole floor is locked down by the enforcers. I don't think they'd take too kindly to you breaking in."

"I see."

"I can get you in though!"

"Really?" Quizzed Razor. "How?"

"Easy! Hope on the gurney, I'll throw a bit of laundry on it and pretend I've come to change sheets or something. Enforcers might be here and all, but they don't run the place."

"You think that will work?"

"Don't see why not."

Razor glanced at the gurney. It was fairly large, enough to carry a kat of T-Bone's bulk easily. A little cliche, to be sure, but it was preferable to most of the alternatives."

"Alright." said Razor. "Let's roll."

"Um...there is one thing, though." said Tim, slightly nervously.

"What's that?"

"Can I have your autograph?"

" _Guess this is the place._ "

The building bore a striking resemblance to Marco's old residence. While not dilapidated, it was clear from the outward appearance of the building that maintenance was far from the most prominent of the landlord's concerns. A few cracked steps led up to an open double door, any semblance of a lock long since removed and forgotten. Such residential buildings in more prominent and expensive areas of the the downtown city area would very likely have a doorkat. No so in this case.

That suited Marco just fine.

The few kats that hung about the entranceway, smoking or drinking cheap liquor, didn't give him anything more than a cursory glance. Mentally, he noted their positions, should they try to prevent any escape he might need to make. It was unlikely, but the grey kat had learned not to put any action past the drunk and stupid. After a final glance about the lobby, his gaze occasionally meeting that of one of the lowlifes, he made his way up the stairs, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden steps.

A short time later and he arrived on the top floor landing.

Three doors met him. One, he guessed, would likely be roof access; with the other two being residences. Judging by the name of his target, and the strange, foreign-looking icon hanging above the doorway, he had found his target. A quick inspection of the small name tag next to the doorbell confirmed it.

Marco pulled his pistol from his jacket and thumbed the charge switch. Removal of the target was his only order, no need to hide a body or make it look like an accident. This would be quick, brutal and loud.

Marco raised his booted foot and kicked forward, smashing the lock from the doorframe and busting his way into the tiny apartment.

* * *

"What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, I've brought some extra bedding."

"Thanks, but I've already got plenty."

"I know, but the registrar wants us to make sure you're well looked after."

Razor listened from beneath the pile of sheets as Tim walked briskly from the room, carefully closing the double doors behind him. With the lights out, there was only the nighttime glow of the city to illuminate the suite. After a wait of several minutes, he risked lifting the corner of the pile slightly.

Callie was sitting upright in her hospital bed, clad in a hospital gown and gazing out the window. A bank of monitors beeped softly to her right, the occasional display light flickering on along with the click or electronic switches. A few bandages adorned her head, but from where Razor was laying, the wounds did not appear serious.

The cast around her right arm suggested otherwise.

Deciding that he had wasted enough time, Razor threw the bedding back and jumped to his feet. Callie's head whipped about at the sound, her paws flying over her open mouth when she saw who had just appeared in her room.

"Razor!"

"Uh, good evening, Miss Briggs."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Razor's thoughts briefly returned to his last in-uniform visit to a hospital, farcical as it may have been, and what he had said.

"Well...I...came to make sure you were alright, and say that I'm sorry." he said.

"Sorry?" replied Callie. "Whatever for?"

Razor took a few steps closer to the bed.

"It's my fault you're in here. I fired that shot and brought the roof down on you, and now you're hurt."

Callie smiled, a smile that a mother might give her child, full of warmth of forgiveness.

"Hey." she continued. "The choice was between a broken arm and a bullet to the head. Until you showed up, only one option was on the table. You shouldn't be apologising, you should be bashfully accepting my most sincere thanks."

"Well...I…" Razor stammered.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'you're welcome'."

"...you're welcome.

Callie shifted her weight slightly in the bed, patting the now vacant space with her paw.

"Here, sit."

Somewhat reluctantly, Razor moved the few steps towards the bed and sat down, acutely aware of his proximity to the deputy mayor. His pulse increased slightly, and he was certain his cheeks were flushing red.

"It's good you came." said Callie, leaning her head backward against the array of pillows piled high at the head of the bed. "There is something you should hear about, and I didn't want it to come from Ann Gora."

"Yes?"

"Feral visited me earlier today, asked how I was, checked on the guards and all. Very official, but didn't let the cameras in."

"I'm guessing he wasn't paying you a social visit." said Razor, raising his eyebrow slightly.

"You know Feral." replied Callie. "He doesn't do social anything."

"Roger that."

"No, he came here to get me to sign an executive order granting him emergency powers. City Hall has been on his case for a while, he claimed the security authority sent one of their stooges over to enforcer headquarters to hand down some suspension order, probably why he rushed over here so fast."

Razor blinked a few times. He knew that Feral was a hardliner, but he didn't expect him to resort to such political maneuvers in the middle of a crisis.

"You didn't… sign it, did you?" he asked.

Callie looked at him, her expression slightly pleading.

"I'm sorry, Razor." she said. "I had to. I hate to say it, but Feral's got a point. No-one seems to be able to get on top of this. We didn't even put emergency powers in place when Zed or that alien creep attacked, it was all over so fast. Things have been haywire for almost three months, if nothing else, we need to show the citizens we're doing something."

"Even if that something is a nothing? What do you think Feral is going to be able to do differently? He can't arrest his way out of this!"

Callie sighed.

"I know this is bad news for you guys, I wish there was another way. I'm sorry."

Razor felt something ever so slight, ever so delicate grip his paw. Glancing down, he saw Callie's fingers snaking their way over his gloved paw, pushing downward, intertwining themselves with his.

"Promise me you'll get to the bottom of this. You've never let me down before." she said.

"Um...well...uh, this isn't exactly a problem we can shoot a missile at."

"I know, but I feel better knowing you're out there."

Razor simply gazed into her face, now only some six inches away, for a few moments before awkwardly retracting his paw from hers. Shoving the now freed limb into his flight suit, he pulled out a small object, the second reason for his late night visit.

"I almost forgot." he said, his voice cracking slightly. "You dropped this."

Razor deposited the small, triangular communicator into Callie's lap.

"I fixed it right up, you really gave that thing the works."

Callie smiled again.

"See." she said. "I can always count on you."

This time, Razor returned the smile. For the first time in months, he felt at ease. The simple act of being appreciated, something so often missed out on by the pair of vigilantes, did him a world of good. Everything was suddenly worth it; the pain, the aches and the hardships.

Everything except losing his partner.

This time, it was he who took Callie's paw in his, squeezing gently, feeling the gesture returned almost immediately.

"I need to go." he spoke, his voice soft. "T-Bone is still out there, I've got to find him. The Swat Kats aren't much good without a jet and a pilot."

"Stay with me for a little while." she replied, somewhat forcefully. "I just want to forget about everything for a moment. Having you here makes me feel safe."

"I can't, there are enforcers just outside that door. I've gotta split."

"Well, can you at least do me one small favour?"

"Uh...sure?"

"Close your eyes."

Razor closed his eyes and waited. The bedsheets shuffled. Callie's sweet, feminine scent filled his nose as he felt her warm breath on his fur. Razor tilted his head slightly just as he felt her nose brush against his face.

She exhaled throatily in his ear.

Two slender arms wrapped about him and the softest lips he had ever felt pressed themselves to his cheek. Razor remained motionless as the strength of the hug increased. Whether it was a second, a minute or an hour, he couldn't tell, the orange kat simply sat on the edge of the bed, his mind doing cartwheels.

Callie broke contact briefly, time enough for Razor to open his eyes and turn to face her.

"Callie I…"

The second kiss caught him directly on the lips.

The city could have been burning down around him and he wouldn't have cared. For a brief, solitary moment, nothing else mattered, this she-kat was kissing him with a passion he had never before felt. Her tongue glanced delicately across his lips before forcing its way into his mouth, locking with his in a furious cavalcade of passion. She moaned ever so slightly, pushing herself further into the vigilante, tightening her grip as she ate him up with ravenous hunger. Razor inhaled deeply, filling his senses with her smell and taste, not wanting the indulgence to end.

Before he could bring his paws up, she broke the kiss.

"Um...Miss Br...Callie...what…"

Callie pressed her finger to his lips.

"Don't read too much into it." she said. "That will have to do for now. I just wanted… something of my own, something just for me, just for a moment."

"Well I...um...glad I could help out." said Razor, skittishly removing himself from the bed.

"Just don't get yourself killed out there, I wouldn't mind doing that again some time."

"Sure thing, Miss Briggs."

Callie laughed.

"Ever so formal." She said. "Go on then, get that cute butt of yours out of here before I do something that will definitely alert the guards."

Razor was half way back to the salvage yard by the time his heart rate had returned to normal.

" _Kat's alive…_ "

* * *

"Ravi, your son needs…"

The she-kat shrieked as Marco crashed his way into the apartment, brandishing his pistol with a snarl. Wrapped in a colourful shawl and clutched tightly to her chest was a small kitten, no more than a year of age.

"RAVI!"

The name again confirmed that he had selected the correct apartment. Ravi Tendua had, for whatever reason, aroused the attentions of his employer. Somehow, this small, scrawny kat had caused enough trouble to warrant a visit.

"What's going on?!"

The voice had come from the tiny, cramped kitchen. Marco strode purposefully forward, shoving the she-kat and her child out of the way as he made for his target. Entering the kitchen, the smell of aromatic spices filling his nostrils, Marco brought his pistol up."

"Mr Tendua?" he asked.

"Y...yes?"

"Tell your wife to leave, no sense in her seeing this."

Ravi remained glued to the spot, a large serving spoon for the evening's meal clutched in his paw. His eyes locked with Marco's. There was fear, that was certain, but also an element of defiance, of anger. Marco didn't blame him.

"You'd best be hurrying her along, Mr Tendua, this is going to get real ugly in about five seconds."

What came next shocked Marco.

The she kat, still clutching the kitten, forced her way past the grey kat and into the kitchen.

"No!" she yelled, scampering to her husband's side and grasping his paw. "Why are you doing this? Why have you broken into our home?"

" _Screw this._ "

Marco finger squeezed the trigger. It was better this way, giving the kat the chance to face his end. Too many times he'd shot someone in the back, or while they were down. Killing was killing, and the dead never had any complaints, but even in this business, it cost nothing to be polite.

The kitten let out a cry.

"Hush, hush."

The mother tenderly, with a smile that suggested she had momentarily forgotten about Marco's present completely, stroked her child's face. She uttered a few words in a language that the grey kat didn't understand.

"You'd best move, we don't want three bodies tonight." he said, the trigger on his pistol mere millimetres away from firing.

His paw trembled, ever so slightly.

"You want to kill my husband?" she spat. "What for, what has he done."

"None of your business, or mine, I'm just here to do a job."

"Ok." she replied, the defiance in her voice rising even further. "Then do it. You best kill me too. Kill all three of us. Live with that blood on your paws!"

"Really? That's the line you're going with? You just want me to shoot you?"

Marco shifted his aim to the right and lowered the pistol slightly. This was ridiculous. Never before had he experienced such...stubbornness. Certainly not this quickly, and certainly not from a she-kat.

"Mr Tendua, Ravi, please." he began, motioning with the weapon. "I have no interest in your family. Send them away and we'll get this over with."

"Why must you do this?"

"SHUT UP!" he snarled, this time training his weapon upon the she-kat.

She turned away, shielding her child.

"It's a job, like I just said."

"You make it sound so normal." replied Ravi, his voice far shakier than his wife's. "Is this normal for you?"

The past few months had been the most tumultuous of Marco's life. A new job, a new house, opportunities for his daughter that he never dreamed he would be able to provide. He had had barely a free moment to spare a thought for her, choosing to shower her with gifts rather than attention, as if it was somehow a substitute for genuine fathering. He had money to his name, a future for his family.

A pile of corpses.

"Do you kill she-kats and kittens?"

The question stabbed at him.

"No, I don't, I…"

He remembered the maid at the Lorenzo residence. The sight of her body crumpled on the ground. He hadn't even been paid for that one. Steele wouldn't have cared either way, at the time he'd simply put it down to a matter of convenience.

"...I don't."

The pistol clattered to the floor. Marco took a step backwards, pressing his back into the plasterboard wall.

"I'm...not like that…"

He slid down to a sitting position.

Ravi took a step towards the discarded weapon. Marco didn't care.

"Please…" he choked, tears rolling down his face. "What do I do? What have I gotten myself into?"

Ravi picked up the weapon and trained it upon the grey kat, his aim noticeably unsteady.

"Um...well, if you're not going to kill us any more, perhaps you'd…like to stay for dinner?"

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Phew! That was a tough write! The time had come, I thought, to flesh out some of the characters a bit, so I went for a more emotive feel for this chapter. I usually don't write this sort of stuff, so it's probably rubbish, but do let me know either way, I always appreciate a review!

On a technical note, I'm still undecided as to whether I should capitalise the first word after a dialogue...

"Blah blah blah." Said Bob

...or not. It just looks odd to have it capitalised, so I've been keeping it lower case. If anyone notices any inconsistencies, please point them out to me! I was actually thinking about going over all my previous chapters and doing a small format edit (embarrassingly, it was only just recently that I figured out how to put horizontal lines in, so I might just go and replace all the ###'s I had been using). Just a little something that has been bugging me.

Still plenty of unsolved plot elements to cover, and heaps of the story still left to tell, so expect some more soon!

Cheers, you guys rock!  
-AR


	16. Chapter 15 - An Eye for an Eye

Sand. That was the first thing she noticed.

Not sand that one might feel underfoot at the beach, damp and cool, nor the white, clean sand in a child's playground. This sand was coarse and harsh, and it was everywhere. It laced every inch of her fur not covered by her uniform. Her eyes and ears, along with her mouth, were full of it. As if to add insult to injury, her head was split by a catastrophically painful headache. Hacking and coughing, her throat dry, Captain Felina Feral attempted to push herself from her currently prone position to her feet.

Something hard held her down.

" _Crud._ "

With easy escape cut off, she crawled forward. No luck. In addition to being pinned beneath a weight too heavy to lift, her predicament would appear to include snagging her on the object. Wiggling slightly, she couldn't feel any obvious impediments to her progress.

" _Blasted belt._ "

She felt down her side with her single free paw, brushing over the hem of her uniform shirt and grasping at her utility belt.

" _Ok, legs still there, that's something…_ "

Blindly searching about, her paws came across her sidearm. With a tug, she wrenched the weapon free and tossed it forward. The pistol was soon joined by a shattered radio and a utility knife.

The pressure lessened somewhat.

Felina exhaled, reducing the volume of her chest cavity as much as possible before again attempting to slither forward. Without her equipment there to catch on the object, she was able to move, inch by inch. With a tear, she wrenched herself free and into the cool night air, leaving the better part of the lower half of a trouser leg behind. Staggering to her feet, Felina inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with clean, fresh air. Her headache subsided ever so slightly.

It was at this point she realised just how cold she was.

The night sky was moonless and clear, the dazzling band of the Milky Way stretching brilliantly from horizon to horizon. Even without the benefit of moonlight, the illumination provided by starlight was sufficient to dimly mark out the flowing desert dunes. Felina strained her eyes, peering into the gloom.

" _Kat's alive…_ "

As far as she was able to see given the conditions, the area immediately around the object from which she had just removed herself, now revealed to be a discarded cyclotron, was littered with shards of metal and wreckage. The pieces, too small to be parts of a fuselage, formed a trail, beginning some three hundred yards behind the cyclotron and continuing forward, disappearing over a gentle rise.

Retrieving her discarded effects, Felina took a few wary steps, hugging her arms about her midriff in an attempt to keep warm. She had not travelled thirty feet when the ground sharply dropped. Prodding cautiously forward with her foot, she discovered the depression to be a mere two feet deep, yet, after a more thorough exploration, some twenty feet wide. The excessive amount of metallic debris present suggested that this was where the jet had come down.

"T-Bone!"

With a shout, she took off along the gouge, several times tripping over pieces of wreckage jutting up from the sand. She scrambled forward, cresting the small rise and coming to a larger, flatter expanses of desert. Even in near-darkness, the large, black silhouette of the Turbokat was clearly visible, having come to rest in a mostly intact, if not severely damaged condition. Several larger pieces of wreckage, along with both vertical stabilisers, appeared to have been ripped from the airframe at the last second, and lay in the sand close to the aircraft. Running down the far side of the rise, Felina continued to close the distance to the aircraft.

"T-Bone!"

If it was by sheer fortune that the jet had come to rest right way up, then the fact that it was intact was nothing short of a miracle. Even with their relatively shallow angle of impact, the sheer speed at which they had been travelling should have seen the jet, along with its occupants, scattered over several miles of desert. Combining this with a complete lack of injury on her part beyond a few scrapes and bruises, and the situation was downright charitable, in spite of the two of them being stranded some colossal distance out in the desert.

At least, she hoped it was still the two of them.

Felina finally reached the jet. The starboard wing had dug deeply into the desert sands, allowing the she-kat easy access in clambering onto the back of the airframe. She cautiously stepped along the aerospace alloy aircraft skin, moving slowly towards the nose of the aircraft. The canopy was off. Slumped in the pilot's seat, fur and flight suit covered in sand, was T-Bone. The burly kat craned his head up and about, forcing out a clearly laboured grin.

"Was wondering when you were going to show up."

"Thought I'd enjoy a nap." replied Felina, cracking a smirk as best she could. "Hard day at the office after all."

"Or two."

The smirk left Felina's face. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, even though she had spat out most of the sand. Her stomach churned and the pain in her head flared up once more. Again she noticed the cold, more severe this time, causing a series of shivers to shoot up her spine.

"Uh, you sure about that?" she quipped.

"Sure as I can be." said T-Bone, shifting his weight slightly. "Been sitting on my tail all day here. All of last night too. Was starting to think you might have kicked the bucket."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Felina sat down on the rear lip of the cockpit, dangling her feet into the empty gunner's seat. The seat itself was gone, either as a result of the ejection system coming to life at the last second or, judging by the missing cockpit floor, being spat out along with the cyclotron and several other pieces of equipment. There was a distinctive deformation to the cockpit itself, as if the entire jet had been twisted along its axis. The flight consoles were clearly inoperable, screens shattered and instrumentation caked with chemical stains from the malfunctioning eject system. There may be a time when responding to such situations with her typical boyish unruliness would be welcome. It was not now.

"How did we get out of that one?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Still had one cyclotron left in the bomb bay." replied T-Bone. "Threw you out with the bike and hoped for the best."

"How did you managed to make it?"

"Old girl's tougher than she looks." he said, patting his flight console with his paw. "Pulled through for me again."

"Great. So what now?"

"Now, you can cut these straps, I've been stuck in here for two days."

Using her utility knife, Felina cut through the harness that held T-Bone in the cockpit. His nose and ear tips had suffered severe burns, courteously of a full day in the desert sun. Already the tips of his fur were showing signs of bleaching.

"Are you hurt?" Felina asked, sawing through the thick fabric straps.

"Nah. Could use some milk though, don't suppose you've got any?"

Felina remained indifferent toward the lame quip as she cut through the final strap, finally freely the burly kat. Despite the offhand nature of the comment, T-Bone had raised a valid point. They had already spent a full day in the desert without water. Any longer would be downright dangerous.

T-Bone stood up and stretched out.

"Ah that's the stuff!" he said. "Being cramped up like that did a real number on my spine."

The burly kat jumped from the cockpit, landing heavily on the desert sand. It only took a brief glance about for him to taken in the scale of the damage.

"Kat's alive, Razor's gunna kill me!"

"We've got more to worry about than your jet." said Felina, jumping down beside him. "We're past the outer demarcation line, we're in New Kat City territory now."

"That's not good."

"No, it isn't, what do you think they'll do to us if they find a Megakat City enforcer out here?"

"I'd rather not stick around to find out. Any bright ideas, Captain?"

"Yeah." replied Felina. "One, but you're not gunna like it."

* * *

The biryani was delicious.

Under more amicable circumstances, Marco may have been able to enjoy the meal. It was simple, yet well prepared and flavourful, if not a little spicy. He wasn't really eating, having only taken a few bites. He pushed a bay leaf about his plate, studying with a great intensity its colour and shape, along with the makeup of the remaining ingredients. His eyes traced the tiny table that the three kats were now crammed around, taking in every small chip and stain.

Anything to take his mind off the fact that Ravi now sat opposite him with Marco's own pistol in his paws.

"You still haven't told me your name." he said, his accent thick.

"It doesn't matter." replied Marco. "Just shoot me and get it over with."

"You seemed so eager to take our lives, and yet now you're so quick to throw your own away."

"It's the only way. You wouldn't understand. You don't know what I've done, who I'm in with."

"Then tell me." said Ravi, he tone growing steadily more bold. "There is a lot…"

"I came here to kill you, dammit!" Screamed Marco, slamming his paw into the table. "You were nothing, just a number on a piece of paper! You want to know how much you're worth to my boss? Fifty grand. That's it, enough to buy a nice car. I could have shot you, and now you sit there like we have something to discuss! Just get it over with..."

Ravi tightening the grip on the pistol.

"That much I know." he said. "You came here to kill me, perhaps my family too, but what do I gain from killing you? We'd still have one dead kat and one murder walking out of here. Much better that we enjoy a meal."

"Don't...look, just stop it, I can't…" Marco started to choke up again, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks.

"You don't seem like a murder to me." interjected Ravi.

"I am a murderer. I've killed for money, nothing else, cold blooded stuff."

Marco looked up, facing Ravi for the first time since they sat down.

"And now I can't even do that!" He continued. "It's all I'm useful for, the only reason he's keeping me around. I...I don't know where to go from here. There's only one thing in this world I care about and…"

The grey kat cradled his head in his paws and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Tell me about this kat." said a soft voice.

It was Ravi's wife, sitting to Marco's left, speaking for the first time since the intrusion.

"I...she...I can't...it's my daughter." said Marco, finally giving in. "I've already done so much wrong by her. She's the whole reason I'm here in the first place, I couldn't provide her with the life she deserves, so...so I went and starting ruining others..."

He took another bite of the meal.

"...and now it's out of control."

"Then start doing the right thing now." she said, depositing another spoonful of food of Marco's plate. "Ravi doesn't tell me much about his job, but I'm sure the kats down at headquarters can work something…"

"It's no good!" said Marco. "I've failed, I'm useless to him now! He'll find a way to get back at me, force me to step back in line!"

"Who? Who is this kat?" asked Ravi.

Marco shook his head. "I can't tell you." he said. "Please! Please shoot me! If I'm gone then...then she'll be safe."

"I can't do that, I'm not going to take some kitten's father away from her."

The grey kat returned his head to his paws.

"Why are you being so kind to me?"

A gentle touch caressed along his forearm before grasping at his paw, pulling it away from his face. Ravi's wife smiled warmly at him, not an ounce of hate or fear in her expression.

"Because everyone deserves kindness." she said.

Marco stared blankly at the foreign she-kat for a moment. He had been sent here to kill her husband, and yet now he was receiving a warmth and welcome that he hadn't felt since he was a kitten.

"How can you say that, after what I came here to do?"

"I've always found the kats in this city strange." she continued. "You have this idea that because someone does something wrong, that they are not worthy of compassion. In my home country, many years before my husband and I were born, there was a kat who spoke against violence and injustice. He told us that the bravest thing a kat can do is to show love and compassion, that the only way to defeat violence and hate is with kindness. You came here to visit an evil upon us, but to do so in return would just make us both devils."

"I'm not sure if he would have lasted long in Megakat City."

"Perhaps not, but look at us. We sit here and share a meal, where moments ago you wanted to shoot us. There is kindness in you."

"There can't be much…"

"There is enough."

A few further bites later and Marco had regained a small element of his composure. By rights, he should not be sitting here. He wouldn't have blamed Ravi one bit if he had simply chosen to pick up the discarded weapon and blast Marco's brains across his kitchen wall. The grace with which he and his wife had taken what was nothing more than a home invasion was astounding. Marco studied the two kats more intensely. He had not noticed it before, but both had their free paw clasped tightly around the others. There was a slight shaking, barely noticeable, but most certainly there. They were scared. Despite the weapon, despite having their would-be murderer collapse into an incoherent mess, they were still scared.

And yet they had still invited him to sit down with them.

"How did it come to this? Why is my life so messed up?"

"You've made a mistake." said Ravi's wife. "Everyone does, some kats unfortunately make bigger mistakes than others."

"I tried, you know." continued Marco. "I tried to make it all work out, earn my keep just like any other kat. It's not an excuse but, I...I just felt that whenever I could force others to do things my way, it was all so much easier."

"What did you do before all this?" she asked.

"Ha, I was an enforcer. I know, what a joke. I hated it though, saw so many kats get away with so much, saw how rotten the whole system is. You know, I still think about it. We were doing a bust, pretty routine stuff, katnip dealers. The sergeant was some hot-shot fresh in from the academy, real hardliner. Didn't mind, felt good to have someone who at least thought we could make a difference. So we kicked in the door, busted our way in. First kat in took a slug to the face, pretty nasty stuff, but that's why we were there. Took 'em down and found their stash."

"That sounds hard, it must have been difficult."

Marco shook his head. "No, it was easy, that's the thing. Shooting those scumbags felt good, like we were doing the city a favour, doing something the courts or city hall couldn't manage. It was just us and them, and our guns. But we had the training, they never stood a chance. Even after they gave up, we lined them up and…"

The grey kat clasped his paw to his forehead again, taking in a few deep breaths. "They were just kids! I can't…"

Another lone tear down his cheek.

"Nobody except the kats that were there knows that." he continued, calming slightly. "We said we'd never tell anyone. The investigation turned up nothing, no-one likes defending dealers. Of course, the brass couldn't just let it slip, we'd lost two enforcers and had a pile of bodies at our feet. Most of us just kinda disappeared into civilian life. They slapped us with discharges and sent us on our way."

He looked up, staring despondently into his host's eyes.

"I've never told that to anyone."

"I…" started Ravi. "I'm not sure I know what to say…"

"Mr Tendua." continued Marco, once again taking on a professional disposition, pushing the painful memories from his mind. "You're still in danger, you all are. My boss won't let this slide, he'll send someone else, he's...taken a personal interest in you."

"I was afraid of this."

Marco cocked his head. "Why's that?"

"I am sorry, but I cannot tell you." said Ravi. "As much as I am glad for your change of heart, I can't let you report on what we know back to your employer."

"No, I didn't think you would."

"But, you must be careful! I do not think your boss is who you think is he."

"Believe me." said Marco. "If I had known who he really was from the start, I wouldn't be here. But still, you are in danger. You have to take your family and leave, get out of here! Protective custody, another city, whatever, just go!"

"And what will you do?"

Marco thoughts returned to his own predicament. Jumping off a bridge didn't seem like so bad an idea, given the situation. He could simply go and shoot Steele, but no doubt the wily ex-enforcer had a contingency in place for that. Perhaps he would hand himself in.

"I'll think of something."

The three kats stoed up from the table in unison, the smaller of the two keeping his aim fixed on Marco's chest. The pair simply stared at each other as Ravi's wife began clearing plates, acting for all the world like it had been just another evening meal.

Ravi flipped the pistol over in his paw and extended it towards Marco.

Marco grasped the pistol grip.

"Take care of yourself."

"You too."

* * *

"I dunno, Captain, that all sounds pretty risky."

The two kats were huddled about a small fire made from the torn-up remains of T-Bone's seat. The tom had found a pair of space blankets in the fuselage of the Turbokat, and they now sat wrapped tightly, absorbing as much warmth from the flickering flames as they could.

"It is risky." said Felina. "And you'll maybe have a day or two to pull it off."

"Ok, so let's say this all works out." replied T-Bone, doing little to hide the incredulity in his voice. You're going to need to use the satellite transmitter to call in the emergency rescue crew. The New Kat authorities are going to be wondering what that giant radar signature we almost certainly left across their screens was, they'll come looking if you start blasting out transmissions like that."

"Don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"And what do we do if they show up before your buddies?" he said, cracking a grin.

"Do our best and leave the fallout to the politicians?"

The two kats chuckled slightly at the suggestion.

"Ok, sure, better than nothing." said T-Bone. "Let's go over it one more time."

"Right." responded Felina. "I call up headquarters on the satellite radio, you say it's working."

"Should be."

"Great, so I call up headquarters and they send out an emergency rescue team. Of course, they might just say we're too far out and leave us to be picked up by New Kat."

"Let's assume they don't."

"Good call." continued Felina. "Now, they send out a heavy lift chopper, recover the jet and...uh…"

"This is the part I don't like " said T-Bone.

"Yeah, well, they'll probably arrest you."

"Exactly."

"But hey, we get a nice, comfy ride back to the city. I can probably talk the crew into letting you go before we get back, and I'm pretty sure my uncle is going to have bigger things to worry about than you."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that." quipped T-Bone.

"You can always try the shooting option."

T-Bone grinned again, wider this time.

"Maybe you could join in, make it a bit more interesting, give everyone something to talk about." he said.

"Ha, thanks, but no thanks, I like my job."

"I wouldn't have guessed." he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Even if it does sound like fun."

"OK." said T-Bone. "So say this all works out, what about my jet?"

"That." said Felina. "Is the fun part. The tech boys will tear that thing apart; my uncle is going to want every inch examined."

"Doesn't sound like much fun…"

"Ah, but it is! See, they'll probably haul it off to that salvage yard for a day or two before going over it, might even be there a week."

"Salvage yard?" asked T-Bone, feigning ignorance.

"I...yes, you don't know of it?"

T-Bone shook his head. Something in Felina's voice suggested that his answer was not quite what she expected.

"It's no big deal." she said, brushing aside the query. "Run by the two washed-out mechanics, wouldn't worry too much about them. Should be pretty easy for you and Razor to bust in and steal your jet back. No idea how you're going to move it, but I'm sure you'll think of something."

"And you'll just… let all this happen?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who wants you guys in prison! The city is safer with you in the air."

"Try telling that to your uncle."

"I have, believe me. Anyway, you gunna get that satellite radio up and running?"

"Sure, sure…"

Felina watched with great intensity as the burly tom hauled himself to a standing position and made his way to the jet, rummaging around within the mangled fuselage, pulling out the occasional piece of radio equipment. Frankly, she felt slightly ashamed of her deception. There was truth in what she had said; the Turbokat would be interred at the enforcer salvage yard for a time before undergoing analysis by enforcer technicians. The Swat Kats would need to break into to steal it back.

" _Or perhaps not._ "

She couldn't put out what she had learned after T-Bone's comment on Razor's injury that night they had come to visit her out of her mind. The information Ravi had dug up regarding the visitation of one Jake Clawson to Megakat Memorial for stitches in his leg seemed too much of a coincidence. She had to know.

She just didn't know what she'd do once she found out.

* * *

Steele hurled his cell phone against the wall of the demountable, shattering the screen and sending glass shards flying about his office.

"That useless bastard!"

The call from Marco had come in a good two hours later than expected. It had not been good news. According to the grey kat, Ravi Tendau was not at home. An inspection of the apartment had suggested that it had not been lived in for some weeks.

" _I don't even know why he is interested in this guy…_ "

Steele's mysterious contact had been most insistent that Ravi be removed. All the required information had been provided; address, work schedule along with an up-to-date picture of the foreign kat. It wasn't like him to get this sort of thing wrong. He hadn't been wrong about anything up until now.

Marco hadn't offered much in the way of an explanation.

Steele had inklings as to what may have happened. The very fact that Ravi Tendua had aroused such interest suggested that he was somehow involved on a deep level, or perhaps posed a danger, if not to Steele, then to the mysterious kat. If Ravi was smart enough to track him, then he was probably smart enough to realise that he was in danger.

"Smart enough to find me…"

As such, it was reasonable to assume that he was now in protective custody, like at the enforcer accommodation block on the outskirts of town. Such security would rule out another visit from Marco, or any of Steele's other employees. It did not, however lessen the problem.

And now, Steele would have to report on their failure.

The orange-furred kat flipped open his laptop. Checking the long list of throw-away e-mail addressed provided, he selected the one appropriate for the date and typed a few short words.

[Ravi still alive, under enforcer protection. Please advise.]

Steele hit the send button and waited, something he had been doing an awful lot of the past two days. He half expected, at times, for an enforcer motorcade to charge up the access road to the Megakat Metallurgical site, ready to take him down. As safe as he had played it, he was simply unable to shake the feeling that catastrophic failure was a single misstep away. The abilities of the kats in his employ, it seemed, were being stretched to their limits. Further intervention on his part would risk his own anonymity, even if the encouragement was called for. Every one of them was expendable, but following up on the threats needed to keep them in line was proving difficult.

Especially Marco.

The reply came some half hour later. It read more or less as Steele had anticipated.

[You couldn't take out a pencil-neck programmer?! Have I misplaced my trust in you? I can't have my fun on this end if Ravi Tendua is still kicking around. Do what it takes, but get rid of him. Perhaps you need to try something more flashy, all that sneaking around must be tiring.]

Steele gritted his teeth. Whoever this kat was, for them to talk of sneaking around like it was somehow unnecessary was beyond hypocritical. Still, taking offense would get him nowhere. His instructions were clear.

Steele activated ageing PA system on his desk, blasting his voice out across the yard.

"Moore, bring one of the vans, pack it with as much explosive as you can."

* * *

The buzzer rung on Feral's door. It was well past midnight, a time such that any disturbance would almost certainly be important. The large kat leapt from his bed and slammed his fist into the door release button.

"Sir!"

An enforcer officer bolted in, short of breath and sweating.

"Yes… Lieutenant?" replied Feral, quickly eyeing the rank on the kat's shoulder

"Sir...I." he stammered, fully aware of the fact that Feral was clad in nothing but a loose fitting pair of boxer shorts.

"Spit it out, unless this is your idea of a joke…"

"Sir." he continued, straightening out his uniform jacket. "We got a call on the emergency satellite band. It's your niece, sir, we found her!"

Feral stormed forward, grasping the smaller kat by the shoulders.

"Felina? Where is she?!"

"Sir, if you would please get dressed, I brought a car, I'll give you the details on the way."

Ulysses Feral flew about his spacious apartment, throwing on the bare minimum of patrol fatigues before charging out his door, the enforcer lieutenant in tow.

"When did this happen?" he asked, the pair now descending via elevator to the lobby.

"Not long ago, maybe fifteen minutes. We would have called but, we...figured you could use the sleep."

Feral cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll get us there quickly, sir, the car is right over here."

Exiting the building, the two kats all but sprinted across the small visitors parking lot to an enforcer cruiser, engine still running. Feral threw open the door.

A crack in the distance registered in his hearing a split second before something slammed into the cruiser and exploded.

It was as if he had been punched in the gut.

And then the chest.

And then the face.

Then came the heat.

The flash of light blinded him for a brief second before the thunderous blast all but deafened him. He felt his feet leaving the ground. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the Lieutenant tumbling over, a shard of metal from the cruiser piercing through his chest. His own body followed suite, tumbling uncontrollably through the air. Pieces of metal, glass and rubber flew past, scrapping or outright piercing through him. He felt warmth spread rapidly across his chest as blood flowed freely, gushing from a dozen wounds.

" _Kat's al…_ "

Feral's bulk slammed into the tarmac a good ten yards from the now blazing wreck of the cruiser. His head swam and his ears rang.

His paw went for the radio that wasn't there.

The large kat's world went black as he attempted to crawl his way towards the motionless body of the Lieutenant. The colours darkened, the last remnants of his vision being the orange glow of the streetlights above him.

And, in the distance, something white.

* * *

Author's Note:  
First thing's first, a huge thank you to all my readers, February was the best month for views and visits that I've had so far. You guys are the reason I write, I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you! Every writer loves getting reviews and feedback, but I have legitimately found it has helped me push on when I've had a block or just not felt like writing. You guys rock, keep it up!

Another chapter down! Trying to focus more on canon characters, but still always end up going back to OCs. Also trying a few different things with dialogue and character interaction, trying to make it seem a bit more personal. Let me know if it's working out, or if I should just stick to radio conversations and gunshots. As always, drop a review or some feedback, good or bad, always appreciated!

Genuine question - do any of the scenes feel rushed? If so, please please please call me out on it and let me know, I'm a bit worried!

Uni has started again, so there might be some delays for future chapters. I've got my timetable all sorted out, so I'm still going to have the time to do my writing, it just might go a bit by the wayside from time to time. Additionally, I'm working on a few other things, including another short, so I might try to push that out before the next chapter of Counterplay. Broadening out, gunna write something not Swat Kats related!

Cheers,

-AR


	17. Chapter 16 - At the End of the Rope

Jake had risen early, a habit learned from years of twelve hour work days. Even on their rare days off, sleeping in was a luxury he had simply drilled out of himself. Running on autopilot, he had groggily made his way about the upper floor of the workshop, washing and dressing in his denim overalls for a day's work. A larger than usual breakfast had followed, courtesy of the increase in physical activity demanded by the recent resurgence of his Swat Kat duties.

For the moment, however, he simply sat on the couch, staring in disbelief at the television, jaw agape. Video footage from directly outside Megakat Memorial flashed across the screen, unsteady and grainy, showing a team of paramedics fighting their way through a throng of reporters. Baying and shouting drowned out any semblance of commentary on the part of Ann Gora, although it took only a momentary glance to determine the cause of the commotion.

The unmistakable body of Commander Ulysses Feral, clad in a surgical drape and festooned with an array of tubes and drips, was hurried wheeled atop a gurney into the emergency department of Megakat Memorial.

"Woah, buddy, you gotta…"

Jake caught himself mid sentence. Of course Chance wasn't there. He had half expected to wake up with Chance having returned in the middle of the night, or for the whole ordeal to have been a bad dream. It wasn't. For the third day running, he found himself alone. Callie's affections, while a most agreeable distraction, did little to ease the anxiety he now felt. Beside, such warmth was directed at Razor, the dashing, brave and adventurous Swat Kat, not Jake Clawson. Beyond the occasional repair and tuneup he and Chance gave her car, he very likely meant nothing to the deputy mayor.

And so he sat in this dingy, run down workshop, unwanted and ignored, as Megakat City seemingly imploded around him. In way, his own personal circumstance was reflective of the plight of the city as a whole. Both found themselves adrift without direction, their situation seemingly hopeless and one thing after the other was stripped from them. In the case of Jake, his partner and his beloved jet, for the city, first its ever vigilant deputy mayor and now its sworn protector in the form of Commander Feral. Where either would go from here was a mystery.

Jake flicked the television off, unwilling to subject himself to more misery.

There would be no customers today. He hadn't bothered to open the gate, and without Chance, the prospect of work was utterly unwelcome. Simply sitting and waiting for the next emergency to respond to seemed like a worthy enough use of his time; with or without T-Bone, Razor would still have to respond when the city was in need. What form that emergency may come in, or if he could indeed provide any meaningful assistance was yet to be seen. Judging from the nature of events thus far, it was unlikely.

Yet he would be there.

Briefly, the orange kat mused over donning his flight suit and paying Callie another visit. Selfish, perhaps, but something he simply could not push from his mind. Was he over analysing the situation? Did he really expect anything to come of it?

Was he being desperate?

Such questions floated about his mind, without much in the way of answers coming to him. Ultimately, he decided against the move; it was a risk too great for the sake of a simple pleasure. There was simply too much at stake, for both of them, to put safety and security on the line for one's emotions, even if they had been bottled up for some time.

" _Bottled up? Maybe… she was probably just blowing off a bit of steam._ "

At the very least, the recollections were pleasant, those brief few seconds would be played over again and again in his head in the days and weeks to come. With Chance gone, a bit of self-indulgence might be…

The phone rang.

Jake answered it without thinking. "Jake and Chance's Garage, Jake speaking."

Specialist Clawson?

"Uh, yeah?"

Hi, Jasper van Dekker, Megakat City Enforcers Advocacy Union, how are you today Mr Clawson?"

"Not good, is this important?"

I'm sorry to hear that, but you're not alone. I won't take up too much of your time, I'd just like to ask you a few questions about your current employment with the Megakat City Enforcers.

"I'm not really an enforcer, Chance, uh, Specialist Furlong and I just run the salvage yard."

But you are on the payroll, correct?

"Well, yes."

Are you satisfied with your remuneration?

Jake sighed. Of all the things he could be worrying about, his work conditions was currently near the bottom of his list of priorities. True enough, he was paid a pittance and had to work in substandard conditions, but such matters paled in comparison with his other concerns. Still, this kat was simply doing his job.

"No, I'm not really."

I understand. What about conditions? Are you given enough leave? Vacation time? Medical coverage?

"Look, uh, Jasper, I'm not really sure what all this is about. I've got a lot of work to take care of, can we do this some other time?"

I see. Perhaps Specialist Furlong is available for a chat?

Mr Clawson?

"No, he's not."

I see. Mr Clawson, I'll cut to the chase for you, The Enforcers are in a bad way. We've had a record number of casualties over the past few months, and the city appears unwilling to do anything about it. Did you know that Commander Feral was recently granted emergency powers?

"Yeah, I heard."

If you've seen Katseye news recently you'll know that he suffered an attempt on his life and has been committed to hospital. Tell me, do you feel safe with this sort of violence being leveled against our officers?

"I told you, I'm not really an enforcer, I just get paid to run the salvage yard."

Well, Mr Clawson, if I might put it to you slightly differently in that case. There are hundreds, thousands of officers out there right now, risking their lives for a city government and upper command who don't value them enough to even provide workable conditions or a respectable wage, not to mention the increased level of danger they now face. We all know that danger is part of the job, but there have been far too many enforcers in the past week who haven't been able to go home to their families. Spare a thought for them. The Advocacy Union is fed up with this treatment, Mr Clawson; we're not willing to risk the lives of officers if they are not provided with appropriate protections and sufficiently compensated for any injury or loss.

"What are you trying to say?"

It's very simple, we would like you to add your name to a job action order. Beyond essential services, enforcer officers will refuse to partake in their duties until this chaos has been sorted out. Can we count on you, Mr Clawson?

"You're talking about a strike?"

That's exactly what I'm talking about.

* * *

The smell of disinfectant assaulted his nose.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

The voice came in muffled and dull at first, as if he was waking from some dream, but steadily grew in volume. Along with the noise, there was light; bright light, visible even through his shut eyelids. He attempted to squint, but to no avail. Very slowly, he rolled his head, both bringing his ear closer to the voice and shielding his eyes somewhat from the light.

"He's moving, get the doctor!"

That he most definitely heard, loud and clear. There was scampering now, and shouting. Doors were opened and closed rapidly, and feet pounded and squeaked on linoleum floors. The light still burned into his retinas. Risking further movement, he attempted to shuffled his shoulders, only to be met with a dozen stinging pains across his back. Trying his legs and arms met with the same results.

A pair of footsteps stormed up to him.

"Commander!"

" _I recognise that voice..._ "

The first pair was joined by a second, and another voice spoke.

"Ma'am, please, step aside!"

A paw grabbed his wrist and a pair of fingers checked his pulse. For a moment, he simply concentrated on the sensation of touch, attempting to block out all other sensory input. When he was confident that he was well and truly conscious, he flexed his wrist.

"That's it, Commander." came the voice, calm and reassuring. "Nice and slow, try to grasp my paw."

He obliged, slowly but firmly grasping his giant paw into the offered grip.

"Good work, are you able to open your eyes for me?"

He opened his mouth to talk. It was dry, and all that escaped was a whisper.

"...lights…"

"I'm sorry?"

"Lights…" he spoke, more firmly this time. "...too bright."

The footsteps scurried away. Moments later, the burning brightness was cut, leaving his vision pitch black. Slowly, his eyes opened. Staring down at him was none other than the deputy mayor of Megakat City, Calico Briggs, flanked by a doctor and an orderly.

"Welcome back, Commander Feral." said the Doctor. "You gave us all quite a scare."

"Water…"

The orderly hurried away before returning with a plastic cup of water. Feral sipped at the clear, cool liquid as it was held up to his mouth. His parched throat was flooded with relief, bring his voice back to him.

"What happened?" he asked, directing the question towards Callie Briggs.

"I don't know." she replied. "I was being discharged when they rushed you in here."

It dawned upon Feral that moment that Calico Briggs was haggard, fur unkempt and sullen, weary eyes. In place of her usual pink dress she wore a loose fitting tracksuit, the top covering the cast that had been wrapped about her arm. She had forgone the use of a sling.

"Miss Briggs." said Feral. "You look tired, you should go."

"The deputy mayor refused to leave the hospital until you had woken." said the doctor. "She was most insistent."

"Thanks you for the concern, Miss Briggs, but I'll be alright."

Callie remained stoic, her face unmoving and severe.

"I'm glad you're safe, Commander, but I'm not here just for pleasantries, I have some news for you. Good or bad, your pick." she said.

Feral shifted slightly. "Bad news first."

Pulling a chair to his bedside, Callie sat down. Leaning forward, she began to talk.

"There's no easy way to put this, Commander, the Security Authority filed an injunction against you last night in an emergency meeting."

Feral raised his eyebrow. "Awfully quick of them, didn't even have the decency to wait until I'd stopped breathing."

"It's not just that." continued Callie. "The emergency powers you've been granted, technically they weren't granted to you, they're given to the commander of the Megakat City Enforcers."

"Are you saying…"

Callie nodded. "Yes. Whoever the security authority decides to appoint in your stead will be have it all."

Feral closed his eyes and leaned back. There was a part of him that simply didn't care; he had been beset by disaster after disaster, and it had all gone so horribly wrong. His devotion to duty was resolute, but every kat had their breaking point. Feral had never reached his, although he felt close.

"So what happens now?" he asked. "The Security Authority must be disappointed to learn that I'm alive."

"Quite the opposite, in fact." replied Callie. "You're still an enforcer, they haven't gone and fired you, but without command, I'm sure they'll want to stick you behind some desk to push papers around. Easy to keep an eye on you that way, I'm sure they're tickled pink."

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled. What's the good news?"

Callie's weary eyes light up.

"There's a rescue team on the way to pick up your niece as we speak."

Feral sat bolt upright in the hospital bed. "Felina? Where is she!?"

"Commander!" Interrupted the doctor, placing both paws on the larger kat's shoulders, holding him down. "You're in no condition to do anything other than rest! I didn't spend the last six hours digging shrapnel out of you and stitching you up so you could go and tear all your wounds open!"

"Please, Commander." continued Callie. "Wait here. She'll be back in a few hours."

The large kat relented, relaxing himself back into the bed. As powerless as he now felt, the one upside was that he was able to get some sorely needed rest. He'd been functioning on as little as four hours sleep a night for the past few months, and the doctors orders were a welcome change. Even so, he felt out of place.

"How long until I'm out of here?" he quired of the doctor.

"I'd recommend at least a week," he replied, "but if you're set on moving, we can get you discharged in four days. We'll have to dose you up on painkillers, mind you, and there'll be no frontline service for a good few months. Non-negotiable."

"Do what you need to do."

* * *

The midday sun had driven them under the wing of the downed turbokat. They sat, not talking save for a few lame quips regarding piloting skills or local wildlife. It had been 12 hours since the call had been made, time enough to ready a crew and set out, although there was as of yet no sign of the rescue party. Worry had not yet set in. While lacking water and food, and feeling all the worse for it, both kats knew that little energy was required on their part. They merely had to wait.

"Are you sure your buddies aren't lost?" joked T-Bone.

"If they get lost trying to find us, what does that say about your flying?" replied Felina. "How do you even lose a plane in a desert?"

"Ask Razor, last time he was in charge of navigation we ended up...ah, it doesn't matter."

Felina turned around to face the burly tom. "Ended up where?"

"Long story. Well, not really. Dimensional radar, don't ask me how it works. Razor decided we needed a stormy night to test it, ended up getting hit by lightning, triggered some sort of...tensor field flux? He tried to explain it to me, used a lot of word that went right over my head. Anyway, we ended up in what we thought was Megakat City. Turned out it wasn't."

"Really? What was different?"

"Well." continued T-Bone. "For a start, you started shooting at us."

Felina laughed. "Now you're just pulling my tail."

"Wasn't that funny at the time. Seems we ended up in some alternative dimension where we were…"

"Were what?"

"...the bad guys. Pair of thugs working for Dark Kat. Nasty stuff. All worked out in the end."

"What happened? asked Felina, shuffling a bit closer.

"Blew themselves up. Not much more to it than that."

"Rough stuff."

"...yeah."

A few awkward seconds of silence passed before Felina spoke again.

"How many kats know about that?" she asked.

"Apart from me and Razor, just you."

"Why me?"

T-Bone's grin suddenly returned. "Hey, don't get any ideas now, just because we're stranded out here in the desert doesn't mean we have to go all bleeding heart on each other."

The grin quickly faded. "But still, it was rough. We saw what we could have become if things didn't turn out the way they did; that might have been us bombing Enforcer Headquarters."

"Bombing what?!" interrupted Felina, mouth agape.

"Almost a shame it didn't happen." replied T-Bone, again returning to his jovial self. "Would have loved to have seen the look on your uncle's face."

"Wouldn't be the first time…" muttered Felina.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

The next hour passed without further conversation, T-Bone content to draw patterns in the sand and Felina tending to the various rips and tears in her uniform. The sand was starting to sting. They had had to put up with it for a good while now, but try as they might, they simply couldn't escape it. It stung at their eyes, whipped up by gusts of wind and flung across the desert.

It almost drowned out the sound of approaching helicopters.

Felina was the first to hear it, dashing out from under the wing of the jet and standing bolt upright, ears pricked and turning to face the direction of the sound. It reverberated across the dunes, muffled from time to time by the wind or disappearing entirely, only to return, louder and closer.

"Odd." she mused. "They're approaching from the wrong…oh crud!"

"What?" asked T-Bone, himself emerging from beneath the wing.

"New Kat City enforcers."

* * *

The first impacted Lev's stomach, doubling the white kat over and dropping him to his knees. A pair of strong paws hauled him to his feet, where further blows struck him across the chest and in the gut. The last punch landed squarely on his jaw line, dislodging a few teeth.

"Enough."

Gus Artiglio calmly waved his subordinates away. Lev was left standing, blood dripping from his mouth and onto the plush carpet, in the middle of the room. The large set of double doors, the only exit, was flanked by two more thugs, each clutching a pistol. Artiglio himself sat behind his desk, eyeing Lev for a good few minutes before he spoke again.

"I thought I gave you very clear instructions."

"It was neither a matter of instruction, nor the potential lack thereof." said Lev, his voice calm and collected despite the injuries. "It was simply an unfortunate happenstance."

"I don't accept coincidence as an excuse for incompetence!"

"As I am well aware." continued the white kat. "Although one may fall victim to it, and such failings come about regardless of our own investment in the outcome of whatever scenario we may have manufactured. I was of sound confidence at the time, if you'll pardon the arrogance, that my line of sight would remain unobstructed for the duration of the rocket's flight. Such deviation as was experienced in the trajectory is not a variable which I had factored in. Call it what you will, a manufacturing defect, environmental conditions; the outcome is the same. Ulysses Feral is still alive and we stand here, locked in debate as to why that may be."

The overweight kat hurled a paperweight at Lev. "Cut the crap! You're skating on thin ice, boy, one more stuff up and you won't be able to talk your way out."

"Naturally."

Gus fumed over his desk for a few moments, rubbing his temples with his paws. He had been stressed as of late, in part due to the upheaval produced by Steele and his gang of miscreants, but mostly from having to deal with the kat that now stood before him. It seemed that no matter what he asked Lev to do, events would always conspire against him, denying him what he wanted.

Still, he had to admit that the snow white kat possessed a series of unique talents, talents which he would rather keep in his employ.

"Lev." he started, lowering his voice. "Feral is beyond our reach now; they're certain to have him under guard at all hours thanks to your little fireworks display."

"Mr Artiglio, Ulysses Feral's continued existence is a momentary aberration, one which can be corrected presently should you allow it."

"No." continued Gus. "I've got other ideas. Feral was a hard case, he'll be on his guard now and won't easily be taken out. I suppose I should thank you for at least putting him out of the picture. Word from some of our informants says that the Civic Security Authority have removed him from command. Whoever they've picked to replace him is going to be ill suited for the job, best we leave them be to make as many mistakes as possible."

"An acceptable eventually."

"But kats still need to know that we're back, and that we mean business. If you can find it in yourself, perhaps you could go and put a bullet in that utterly incompetent mayor of ours?"

Lev tilted his head, ever so slightly. "If I may enquire, why would the removal of Manx be of benefit? My personal appraisal is that his lack of engagement with his duties is nothing short of idyllic."

"Maybe. Maybe not, but we're past that points, ideals aren't a luxury we can afford. I'm sure you'd agree."

"Insofar as our current predicament encompasses."

"Good. Then see that it's done. Don't mess this one up, Lev, or one of us is going to be very, very sorry."

"Of that, Mr Artiglio, I am most certain."

* * *

Marco recognised the van instantly, parked in the street opposite his newly purchased house.

His paw shot to his laser pistol, grasping it tightly yet keeping it tucked away in his coat, as his heartbeat raced. He had not heard from Steele since informing him that Ravi Tendua was still alive. A hundred scenarios bounced about in his head, the outcomes of which he hesitated to consider. He had only stepped out for twenty minutes, a quick drive to the local grocery store to get something for he and his daughter's midday meal. Such a quick response on the part of Steele suggested that his house was under constant surveillance.

For the moment, however, such thoughts were lost as he charged through his front gate and up towards the heavyset front doors, his groceries lying discarded in the street. After a momentary pause to thumb the charge button on his pistol, he unlocked the door and stepped in, paw still clutched about his weapon.

"Kitty Kat, I'm back."

"Daddy!" came the response from the living room, clearly audible above the sounds of the television. "I'm hungry!"

Marco released the grip on his pistol, keeping it hidden beneath his jacket. Typically, Bianca would come charging out to greet him whenever he returned, looking for a treat or simply for some affection. For the first time in as long as the grey kat could remember, she had not. Her voice lacked any distress; the drone of the television suggesting she was simply absorbed in whatever show or movie had taken her fancy this week. Marco cautiously picked his line across the spacious entranceway and approached the living room, side on so as to minimise the target he presented.

"Ah, Mr Gatti, good to see you!"

Moore, one of Steele's unscrupulous goons, sat upon Marco's couch, watching television as if he owned the place. In front of him, on her belly and completely oblivious to the kat seated just behind her was Bianca, absorbed as always in the screen. The grey kat breathed a sigh of relief. He knew full well what this visit entailed, and the nature of the message being delivered, but at least as long as their was civility between the two, he felt he had an element of control.

"What are you doing here?"

"The boss sent me." replied Moore. "I have a message to pass on. Perhaps you'd like to talk in private, we wouldn't want your kid getting caught up in any disagreements, do we?"

"Kitty." Marco said, beckoning for his daughter. "How did Daddy's friend get in?"

"He knocked on the door and said he was your friend from work so I let him in." she said without pause.

"I see, be a sweetie and run off to your room for a few minutes, Daddy needs to talk about work for a bit."

Without another word, Bianca removed her tiny form from the room, her eyes remaining glued to the screen until the last moment. Waiting until he was sure she had climbed the stairs and closed the door to her room, Marco switched the widescreen television off, the sweet smile he had given his daughter draining from his face in an instant, replaced by a vicious sneer.

"What is it, Moore?" he spat.

Moore maintained his composure, smiling smugly at the larger, older kat.

"You have a lovely home." he quipped.

"Can it."

Moore's demeanour changed slightly, not enough to suggest hostility, but there was now a distinct coldness to his voice.

"The boss has another job for you, easy this time, even you shouldn't be able to screw this one up."

Marco snorted. "He could have just called."

"He thought you might appreciate a more personal touch." said Moore, standing up from the couch and making for the entranceway. "Come on, I'll show you."

" _No more sir?_ "

The two kats made their way out of the house, Marco making a point of locking the door behind him. Moore motioned towards the van parked in the street.

"Here you are." he said. "The boss just wants you to hold onto this until it's needed, shouldn't be more than a week."

"Uh huh, and what then?"

"Really simple, actually, you'll just need to drive it to a location and leave it."

Marco paced about the van, inspecting the vehicle closely. It was unmarked, save for its plates, with darkly tinted windows and a completely windowless cargo bay; perfect for anyone up to no good. The vestiges of his enforcer training cried out at the suspicious nature of the van, made even more apparent when juxtaposed against the luxurious facade of his home.

"What's in it?" he asked, throwing the rear doors open.

"Oh, about three thousand pounds of mining explosives."

Marco felt his blood run cold. True to the kat's word, the back was packed with plain cardboard boxes. Were it not for the multitude of wires running between them, it might have looked for all the world like a typical delivery consignment. Marco knew better than to call a bluff; Steele had shown time and time again his willingness to resort to extreme measures.

And now he had enough explosives to level a city block parked right outside his home.

In a flash, Marco whipped out his pistol, his finger covering the trigger and pointing it at Moore. Moore's response came, reaching for his own weapon with a speed and preparedness that suggested had been expecting a move on the part of Marco.

Marco, however, was quicker.

As the weapon came up, he ducked down and dashed forward, covering the few steps between himself and Moore in an instant.

"Hey!"

Moore's protest came a fraction of a second before Marco's boot thrust out and collided with diaphragm. With the wind knocked from his lungs, the younger kat's pistol clattered to the ground. Following up, the grey kat struck again, this time with his free paw. The blow crashed into Moore's temple, throwing him sideways and to the ground. Without pausing, Maco placed his boot firmly on the dazed kat's chest, pressing down hard and leveling the pistol upon his skull.

"What the hell, Marco?!" he wheezed, still gasping for breath. "You think Steele will just let this slide? He's not paying you for nothing!"

"Listen here, pal." he sneered, resisting the urge to simply pull the trigger. "You just worry about yourself. You know full well that neither of us are important enough to Steele for him to risk everything, I could blast your brains across the road right now and no-one would care."

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to Moore's. "Or perhaps he didn't tell you what happened to Perez?"

Moore coughed again. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say I think I know our boss a little better than you do. But hey, we're not in this for the social company. You run back and tell Steele that I'll do his dirty work for him, but if I ever catch you, or any of his other thugs around here again, THREATENING MY FAMILY, then so help me God I will end you, I WILL FUCKING END YOU!"

To emphasise his point, he delivered another vicious kick, this time to Moore's side. The downed kat cried out in pain as several of his ribs cracked.

"Now get out of here."

Picking up his still-discarded groceries, Marco watched as Moore limped his way up the street to a waiting car. Moments later, the engine started and the vehicle rolled slowly away. A final glance from Moore, filled with vitriol, caught his eye before the car disappeared from sight. Relief flooded through his body, and his heart rate slowly returned to normal. The ruckus almost certainly piqued the attention of his neighbours, and he hurried inside, arms full of slightly damaged groceries, before any further suspicion was aroused.

"Daddy, are you ok, I heard you shouting." came his daughter's voice as he finally re-entered his home.

"Everything's fine, sweetie. Come here and give Daddy a hug."

Seconds later, Bianca charged out of the living room and threw herself into her father's outstretched arms. He hugged her close, patting her on the back and pushing the thought of the explosive-filled van as far from the front of his mind as he could.

"Everything's just fine, I promise."

* * *

The two kats threw themselves under the wing of the Turbokat, pressing themselves as close to the fuselage as they were able. The sound of helicopter blades whipping through the air grew louder and louder. Before long, the sound was joined by vicious blasts of hot air as the desert sand was kicked up by the downwash.

"You know they've seen us, right?" said T-Bone. "We don't exactly blend in out here."

"I know, I know." hissed Felina. "What do you want me to do?"

"Got your pistol?"

"What?!" Do you have any idea what will happen if we get into a firefight with them?"

T-Bone shrugged.

"Just stay hidden." she continued. "Maybe they won't look too closely."

Any thoughts as to that possibly were quickly ended as the helicopter set down one hundred feet from the downed Turbokat, its electric engines barely audible over the whirring of the contra-rotating blades. As the dust settled, two kats emerged from the aircraft, weapons slung casually in front of them, casually strolling toward the jet.

"Ok, what's the big plan, Captain?" asked T-Bone.

"Crud!"

"Not sure that's going to get us very far."

"Right." Said Felina. "Let me think, I suppose we can...hey! What are you doing?"

Despite her protests, T-Bone had removed himself from under the wing, and now strode confidently across the sand to meet the two New Kat City enforcers.

The two kats stopped in their tracks, quickly unslinging their weapons and training them upon the vigilante.

"Halt!"

"Woah there!" Said T-Bone in his typical, cocky manner. "Boy am I glad you two showed up, I've been stuck out here and was hoping you might be able to give me a ride!"

A blast of laser was deposited as T-Bone's feet.

"On the ground, mega! Paws behind your head! Now!"

"Hey." he replied, slowly raising his paws above his head. "No need to get all aggressive, can't we just talk this over?"

"Now!"

Very slowly, T-Bone lowered himself down, first to his knees, and then onto his stomach. His arms were still outstretched, pointing directly towards the two armed kats.

"Paws behind your head, face down!"

All he had loaded in his glovatrix was a smoke missile, primed and ready. It was a long shot, but it gave them a chance.

The missile blasted forward, the rocket exhaust kicking up sand into T-Bone's face. Before the two intruders had time to react, it had exploded at their feet, filling the air with acrid smoke and reducing visibility to a mere three feet.

"Go, Felina, now!"

T-Bone leaped up, charging forward from his prone position. Several shots whipped past as the New Kat City enforcers fired wildly, hoping for a hit. Throwing caution to the wind, he picked the most direct line. Thundering his way across the sand, he rushed headlong into the rapidly expanding smoke cloud, arms outstretched.

Felina dashed to his left.

" _She's fast…_ "

T-Bone barreled into the first of the two enforcers just as Felina delivered a whirling roundhouse kick to the head of the second, knocking him out cold. The tom's method was far cruder, pinning the kat's arms to his side in a tackle and slamming him into the ground.

"Game over!"

As he pressed the kat's face into the sand, Felina hurried over, shackling his paws behind his back with her manacles. The kat's eyes pierced upward, filled with anger.

"Alright." began Felina, pressing her pistol to the side of their captives head. "Start talking."

"You'd best be pulling that trigger, she-kat, much easier that way." he seethed, voice dripping with content.

"No can do." replied Felina. "We don't do things your way. Looks like you and your buddy are stuck with us until our rescue arrives."

After salvaging a few yards of electrical cabling from the Turbokat, the New Kat City enforcer and his unconscious partner were tied together, then bound to the landing gear of their helicopter. An inspection of the vehicle revealed the flight recorder and emergency transponder, tucked away behind the two pilots seats.

"Sorry to be a drag, but we can't have you taking back any evidence that were were here."

With a few blasts of her pistol, Felina put the flight recorder permanently out of commission. It would be blindingly obvious that it had been willfully destroyed, and along with the inevitable testimony of the two pilots, had the potentially to cause quite the upheaval between Megakat and New Kat City. Still, without hard evidence, it would amount to little more than an unfortunate incident.

Felina, however, fully expected a chewing out regardless of the outcome.

It was a relief, then, when the silhouettes of Megakat City Enforcer helicopters appeared on the horizon, shimmering in the desert heat. As the two kats waited, their captive, still tied to both his partner and their aircraft, protested loudly, screaming and howling with all manner of colourful and descriptive language.

"Shut it, we'll be gone soon."

The helicopters, two standard patrol choppers plus a huge sky crane, gently set down near the Turbokat. A throng of enforcers, clad in armour and wielding an assortment of heavy weaponry, poured out and dashed across the sand towards their captain.

"Ma'am!" shot the lead kat, a sergeant.

"Nice of you boys to show up."

"We came as quickly as we were able too, Ma'am." He replied. "Our resources are stretched pretty thin."

"Relax." said Felina. "Let's hook the sky crane up to the jet and get our tails out of here, don't much fancy being around when New Kat City comes looking for its lost chopper."

"Do you want us to arrest those two?" asked the sergeant, motioning towards the tied up kats.

"No need. I'll switch on their transponder, their buddies should come to pick them up."

"Understood, and what about the Swat Kat?"

"I think." Replied Felina. "That we should all just pretend he's not here, unless my uncle put you up to throwing him in jail?"

The sergeant didn't respond. His gaze drifted, scanning across the sand as if looking for something.

"Sergeant?"

"Sorry, Ma'am." he finally said. "It's just, well, your uncle, he's been badly injured."

* * *

Jake was exhausted. In lacking any paid work for the day, or indeed any otherwise productive use of his time, he had taken to running the reflex over and over again, pausing only for a brief rest just after midday. Six and a bit hours of running, jumping, climbing and shooting had taken its toll, and he now sat, limbs splayed listlessly by his sides, on one of the worn, shabby sofas that furnished the reception area. Thoughts of an evening meal circulated through his head.

Sitting as he was, idly flicking through television channels, he barely noticed the steadily increasing rumble of helicopter engines. Putting it down to the recent increase in enforcer aerial patrols, he paid it little notice.

Yet the volume continued to increase.

The distant rumble became a whine, and the whine became a roar. By the time Jake gave up on the television, dust and debris were being whipped across the salvage yard by the downwash of the choppers.

" _...oh crud._ "

What were three enforcer choppers doing here? Was he in trouble? Should he hide? He glanced sideways, through the workshop and toward the hangar access hatch. If he was quick, he might just make it, although there was no guarantee that the enforcers wouldn't perform a thorough sweep of the building.

"Perhaps I could…"

Any further thoughts as to how to escape the current predicament were rendered moot when the first chopper touched down a mere twenty feet in front of the garage. Resigning himself to whatever would come next, the orange kat decided that Jake Clawson stood a far better chance of getting himself out of this than Razor did. Throwing on his mechanics cap, he calming walked outside.

"Specialist Clawson."

"Leu...uh...Captain Feral, what brings you out here?"

She grinned while replying. "Delivery."

Felina Feral stood, ragged and worn, on the ground just in front of where the helicopter had landed. With a casual wave of her paw, she motioned towards one of the still-airborne helicopters, hanging one hundred feet above the salvage yard. This aircraft was far larger than the grounded patrol chopper; it's lack of anything resembling a passenger cabin, along with its twin rotors, clearly indicating that it was a heavy lift vehicle. Jake's eyes, however, shot to the load suspended beneath it. Jet black and sleek, the unmistakable outline of a fighter jet.

His beloved Turbokat.

He released that he was gawking, and quickly regained his composure. Turning to face the Captain, he attempted to act as surprised as possible.

"Is that...um...is that…" he stammered.

"Yep." quipped Felina. "The Turbokat, the Swat Kat's jet. Crashed out, well, it doesn't really matter, it's here now."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm sure the tech boys will want to look at it." she continued. "But now's not the time. We'll leave it here for a few days, then someone will be out to pick it up and haul it off to Pumadyne. That isn't going to be a problem, is it, specialist?"

"Uh no." replied Jake. "Not at all?"

"Not at all, what?"

"Not at all, ma'am."

"Good to hear." said Felina, turning back towards the chopper. "One last thing though, the Swat Kats might try to take their jet back. You can expect them to break in here."

"Woah, really?"

"Yeah, although something tells me you'll be just fine."

Before he could protest, Felina had boarded the helicopter. As it rose rapidly into the night sky and was joined by the second patrol aircraft, the remaining heavy lift chopper set about depositing its load in between two mountainous stacks of rusting car bodies. As soon as the helicopter had unhooked the thick, steel cargo cable and began its ascent away from the yard, Jake sprinted out. Panting and sweating, his feet pounded in the dirt as he rounded piles of scrap and junk to come face to face with his jet.

And T-Bone, grinning widely.

"Didn't realise you missed me so much." chirped the larger kat.

"T-Bone?!"

"The one and only."

"Kat's alive, where have you been?" asked Jake.

"Had a nice little trip out of town."

"I'll bet. What have you done to our jet, it's going to take months to fix!"

"Didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, but we'll have to deal with that later, we've got bigger problems."

"Feral?" queried the smaller kat.

"Feral." replied T-Bone. "Both of them."

"What are you saying, buddy?"

"Overheard the chopper pilots talking about it." continued T-Bone. "Seems Feral has been replaced by someone else, some suit from city hall. Bad news for us."

"I saw it on the news, didn't know they'd given him the boot."

"Yep, and there's more."

"More?" asked Jake.

"Yeah, it's Felina, I think she's onto us."

* * *

"Please, I need sleep, please…"

"But we've got so much work to do!"

Steele leaned back in his chair, clutching his ageing six-shooter tightly in his paw. Sitting in front of him, bleary eyed and very clearly distressed, was a certain Jasper van Dekker. Sprawled across the desk was a vast array of papers, detailing various city ordinances pertaining to strike actions. About him, a team of five kats worked furiously at their consoles, cycling through lists of actively serving enforcers and making calls.

"You know." said Steele, scratching his head with the barrel of his gun. "I'm actually rather impressed that the Advocacy Union can operate with so few kats. How many enforcers are there in the city, fifty thousand?"

"About that." replied Jasper.

"Wow, looks like you guys have your work cut out for you! Well, back to it, don't let me distract you!"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Commander, I…"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" screamed Steele, leaping from his chair and bringing the butt of his revolver smashing across Jasper's face.

"No...please!"

Steele brought his paw up from another strike before pausing. Relaxing slightly, he lowered the weapon.

"Sorry, Jasper." he said, almost sincerely. 'Things have been tough, you see, lots going on, lots to think about."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" asked Jasper, rubbing his jaw.

"Oh, I'm doing it for the same reason you should be! Don't forget what happened to your brother."

"Felix made some bad choices, can't say he didn't get what was coming to him."

"Maybe." said Steele. "But he was in enforcer custody, and they just let that laughing psycho tear his throat out, you just going to let that slide? What would you mother think?"

"Leave my family out of this!" shot Jasper, anger flashing across his eyes.

"Why would I do that? Maybe I should pay them a visit? It would be such a shame for any more van Dekkers to have a nasty accident over a tiny little pay dispute, wouldn't it?"

"You're sick."

"Oh?" chirped Steele, his voice rising. "Am I?"

Swinging the revolver about, he pressed it to the skull of one of the workers and pulled the trigger. The snub-nosed pistol kicked in his paw, propelling a bullet clean through the kat's head, the overpressure of the discharge bursting his face like a water balloon and splattering bone, blood and brain matter across his screen and a good portion of the wall of the tiny office. The remaining four workers immediately froze, staring at the carnage with abject horror.

"YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF OF IT!" Steele yelled. "GET BACK TO WORK!"

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I'm back! Spent a bit of time putting together a 15k word Starfox one-shot (check it out!), so Counterplay fell a bit by the wayside. Hopefully I can keep updates coming a bit more frequently after this. Thanks to everyone for being patient with me!

Does anyone feel the pacing is a bit disjointed? I had someone mention that I should really focus a chapter on a single character or scene, or perhaps two at most. I'm pretty far along with this style, although if anyone thinks it could use some toning down, perhaps a little less jumping between characters within each chapter, do let me know!

Something else I feel I should bring up; use of strong language. I tend to avoid it as much as possible, unless I've specifically made a character that just happens to swear a lot. Still, from time to time it can be useful to indicate strong emotions. If anyone thinks it's crept in a bit too much, feel free to call me out on it. Almost 100k words in and I'm still not happy with my dialogue...

More action coming soon!

Cheers,

-AR


	18. Chapter 17 - All Laid Bare

The collar of her dress uniform cut into her neck, tight and stifling. The fabric was abrasive against her fur, heavily starched, with creases ironed to a razor-sharp finish. Uncomfortable in the extreme, Felina Feral hated it, much preferring her far more practical patrol uniform. She wore it only when, without question or doubt, it was required of her. The last time had been Vincent D'Angelo's memorial service.

Today, however, the occasion was a hearing before the Enforcer Services and Review Board. The full board.

Felina had been chewed out before, or had disciplinary action taken against her for disregard of protocol or minor insubordination. As much as it pained her to admit it, being the Commander's niece had afforded her more than a bit of slack in such matters. Seldom had she been severely reprimanded, typically just a week or two away from active duty, pushing papers about an office. As she had been charged with such responsibilities more and more as of late, it hardly constituted a meaningful disciplinary action anymore.

"They're ready for you now, Captain Feral."

Felina ignored the officer as she rapidly stood up. " _Here goes nothing._ "

The appearance of the room belied its importance. It was small, cramped even, with a selection of shabby desks and chairs, a number of which had been arranged in a row at one end of the room. Behind them, wearing an assortment of drab, grey or blue business suits, were five morose looking kats. To the side, a sixth kat, younger and perkier, sat behind a console, furiously typing away. They gave her an intense, suspicious stare as she entered.

"Captain Feral." began the centremost of the five, motioning his paw towards a solitary chair at the centre of the room. "Please take a seat."

Felina did as instructed, folding her tail out of the way and sitting carefully, paws resting on her knees.

"Hearing commenced twelve-oh-five, Acting Commander Dennis Mouser presiding." said the kat, flipping through a pile of papers. "Unless you have anything to say, Captain Feral, shall we begin?"

She shot him an acidic look. "Let's just get this over with...sir."

"Very well." he continued, adopting a formal, serious tone. "Captain, your actions during the attack on Enforcer Headquarters seven days ago have been called into question. Concerns regarding your conduct, professionalism and, while it pains me to say this, integrity have been raised. We have asked you here today to give you a chance to explain yourself; perhaps there are elements of the story of which we have not been made aware."

Felina crossed her arms. "What do you want me to say, sir? It was a mess."

"I am aware, Captain, I saw it."

"Yes, I'm sure you had a great view from the fiftieth floor of town hall."

Dennis Mouser turned to the kat to his right, whispering something in his ear before again facing Felina. "Captain, your proclivities are well known to this board, as too are your attitudes and, to be quite frank, lack of professionalism. I believe this hearing has been a long time coming. Do yourself a favour, answer our questions and try to maintain some semblance of bearing. Is that clear?"

"Captain Feral." he repeated, louder. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Excellent. I will start by asking for your version of events. Keep in mind that everything you say here will be recorded, so it is within your interests to be a thorough a possible. Do not leave out any details, no matter how minor you think they may be. Any questions?"

"No."

"Good. Now, please tell me why you asked Rookie Sharpe you accompany you to headquarters."

It would be a long day.

* * *

"You know what it's gunna look like we get caught, right?"

Razor finished vaulting the chain link fence surrounding the salvage yard. "Hey, the idea is that we _**do**_ get caught.

"Felina's idea, not mine."

"Can't really think of any other way of getting the jet back."

T-Bone hit the ground a few seconds after his partner, muttering under his breath. "Never thought I'd be doing this."

Razor's keen ears caught the remark. "Yeah, and in broad daylight!"

"Well you said it." said T-Bone. 'Gotta make sure the cameras see us and not...well, us."

"Should be that easy, yeah. Then when the enforcers come asking for their trophy, we shrug and shake our heads. They'll check the footage from the, I think three of the cameras are working?"

"Two." corrected T-Bone. "And we'll have to take out the one they've stuck over the jet."

The two kats picked their way through the mountains of junk and metal, making a point to appear lost. Occasionally, Razor would clamber to the top of a stack of rusted out vehicles, surveying the scene in search of the Turbokat. Truthfully, they were well and truly aware of where it was, but as they would almost certainly be caught by the salvage yard's cameras, putting on a show was paramount.

"Bingo!"

Razor skidded down the pile of junk, leaping the final few feet and landing in front of his partner. Motioning with his head, the pair made their way towards the exit tunnel, near where the Turbokat had been dumped.

"You know buddy." started Razor. "We should probably do something about this, every time the enforcers bring some crazy vehicle in, they stash it right next to the hangar. Remember what happened with The Metallikats?"

"I do. You wanna pile some junk up?" replied T-Bone

"Can you fly through junk?"

"Probably not going to be doing much flying for a while…"

"I hear ya, buddy."

A single camera had been set up, attached to a rack of corroded engine blocks. No effort had been made to hide it; it was not expected that the two mechanics in charge of the yard would come anywhere near such a dangerous piece of equipment. After making doubly sure the two of them had been seen, the camera was taken out with a quick shot from Razor's glovatrix.

"Alright partner, let's get that crane."

It took a further fifteen minutes to maneuver the ancient crawler crane into position, swinging the large electromagnet above the jet. The magnet, strong enough to lift tens of thousands of pounds, would wreak havoc on what remained of the Turbokat's electrical systems, but unless the two kats wanted to push the jet into the tunnel, they had little choice. Beside, a complete rebuild was already on the cards, a little extra damage was hardly going to matter at this point.

Still, the going was slow. Despite the ordeal through which it had been, the Turbokat's wing spars and major structural components were relatively intact. A careless drop now would turn a rebuild into a complete write off. Another ten minutes of precision maneuvering, raising and lowering followed, until the jet was finally placed in the tunnel. It was still hundreds of yards from the hangar, although the gantry cranes they had installed would make short work of that.

In all, the exercise took a little over an hour, and despite the heavy use of machinery, both T-Bone and Razor were thoroughly exhausted by the end.

"Heck of a workout."

"Says you!" replied T-Bone, wiping his brow. "Sitting in the crane must have been terrible for you."

"Hey, you know how clunky those levers are!"

"I know that they're thicker than your arms."

After a brief pause, the two kats burst into laughter. A weight had been lifted from their shoulders. The jet was wrecked, and months of work lay ahead of them, but it was back, it was safe. Everything was where it should be.

Except one thing.

The laughter abruptly stopped, and the mood turned decidedly sombre.

"Felina." the pair said in unison.

Razor scratched at his head. "Is it really all that bad? We both knew we wouldn't be able to keep this up forever."

"Game's not up yet, sureshot." replied T-Bone. "She's onto us, but I don't think she knows for sure."

"What did she say?"

"Not a lot, but she said you should be careful with the fence, that you probably don't need another trip to the hospital, and that public health records aren't as secure as you might think."

"...crud."

T-Bone nodded. "You're the tech whiz, think she found out about getting your leg patched up at Megakat Memorial?"

"Maybe." replied Razor. "But we can't worry about how she knows, if she does, I'm sure we'll find out about it soon enough. Remember, Feral's not in charge anymore, this new kat, what did Felina say his name was?"

"Mouser."

"Yeah, Mouser, who's to say he's not going to try and prove himself? Bring down the Swat Kats along with whoever is messing up the city; he seems pretty ambitious."

T-Bone chuckled. "Just like Steele was, before they booted him out, he used to get on our case all the time."

"I remember, still, no point in worrying about him, Mouser's the real deal it seems, a politician through a through."

"Don't think I'd ever say this, but I already miss Feral, at least he knew there were bigger fish to fry."

"Hey, like you said, game's not up yet. We should talk to Felina, we're gunna need her help to stop all this anyway."

T-Bone sat down, resting against a stack of scrap. "And how are we going to do that without the jet?"

"Well, while you were gone, a particular grey kat brought in a car for junking."

"I saw it, sweet ride, what's so special about it?"

"Nothing." said Razor. "But the kat who brought it in, he's the same kat I ran into at Callie's place. He's involved in all this."

"Wait, are you saying?"

Razor nodded. "I think he's the one we're after."

* * *

Felina stormed from the hearing, all but smashing the door from its hinges as she burst into the corridor.

" _Bastards!_ "

Everything she had said had fallen on deaf ears; their minds had been made up before she even set foot in the building. Failure to execute an arrest warrant, abandonment of duties, endangerment of fellow officers, use of unauthorised vehicles or equipment, the list of offenses of which she had been accused went on. On technical grounds, they were correct. However, as she saw it, the situation during the attack on headquarters most certainly qualified as extraordinary, and would typically entitle her to act outside of standard protocol.

Mouser hadn't seen it that way, and her five minute expletive-laden outburst had done little to convince him otherwise.

And so, here she was, stood down from active duty on minimum pay, with a forfeiture of all allowances and privileges.

And a demotion.

" _Specialist Feral...crud!_ "

To make matters worse, she was being evicted from the officer accommodation block, courtesy of her new rank. Effective immediately. Looking for a new place to live in the current climate of fear and mistrust among the population was unlikely to be an easy or pleasant experience.

And, on top of everything, her pleas regarding the investigation of the warehouse and farm had gone unheeded. With her uncle currently in a similar predicament to herself, stripped of powers and position, she had no-one to turn to, no-one who could help.

Except…

She thrust her paw into her pocket, fishing out the print-out Ravi had given her weeks ago. She hadn't thought to remove it, and with more the more immediate concerns presented to her as of late, it was a lead she hadn't bothered to follow up.

Now, however, the words burned up at her. Just a name, but a name that might be able to help.

" _...Jake Clawson._ "

Part of her didn't want to know the truth, it all seemed too unlikely, like she was simply setting herself up for another embarrassing failure.

But it was all she had to go on.

Shoving the paper back into her pocket, Felina produce her cell phone, thumbing a few buttons and holding it to her ear.

Captain Feral! came Ravi's voice.

"It's not captain anymore, how are you and your family settling in?"

Oh it's very good Captain Feral, we feel very safe here thank you very much!

"Any time. Look, I hate to ask, but I'm in a bit of a situation, I need your help."

Sure! What do you need?

"Well, when I say help, I'm going to ask you to break almost every rule we have, run away with me on a fool's errand and hopefully bring in the creep behind all this. Remember that warehouse you found?"

Yes I do, you said your friend didn't find anything.

"She didn't, but Abby's an upstanding, law abiding citizen. We need help from some kat's who...aren't."

Captain Feral I am not sure I know what you are talking about, what kats?

"We're about to find that out, you in?"

The phone went silent for a good thirty seconds.

"Ravi?"

Sorry, Captain Feral, I was packing a few things, where do you want me to meet you?

Felina grinned. "I'll come and get you."

* * *

[You've made such a nice mess of things, Steele.]

Steele clenched his fist. This kat was getting on his nerves. Undoubtedly helpful to begin with, he was starting to think that his own role was to simply provide amusement, to give whoever this mysterious individual was something to laugh about.

His paws moved over the keyboard, formulating his response. "It's a messy job, you should know that."

[Oh I do! It's just so nice to have someone else getting their paws dirty for once!]

"Things are pretty dirty at the moment, plus I've got trouble. And if I've got trouble, you've got trouble."

[I don't see how, I'm snug as a bug in a rug here. As long as they keep me locked up, my alibi is bulletproof.]

Steele smirked as he typed away. "Oh no doubt, I'm sure you love being in prison."

[It's not so bad, the idiots even gave me computer access. As long as I'm connected, I'm invincible!]

"Well, perhaps Mr Invincible would care to explain why he was so interested in Ravi Tendua?"

[Oh, that? Just a little bit of competition that I grew tired of. Why? Is he dealt with?]

"No."

[No? Steele, I'm shocked, I thought you had everything under control. You told me you would put your best kat on it. Was I...mistaken.]

"We both were. I'm bringing everything forward, with or without your help."

[Oh, how bold! You won't hear any complaints from me. Let's see you smash the whole thing, bring it all down!]

"You think I care about that? You know why I agreed to all this!"

[Yes, well, we've all got our reasons. Someone is apparently interested in me too; I wouldn't be sitting here chatting with you otherwise. Whatever agenda they may have is of no concern to me. You know what they say, always a bigger fish!]

"So what's in it for you, then?"

[Steele, Steele, you keep asking that, and I keep telling you, I just want to see the city squirm, I want them to know that they can't just lock me up, they can't just...stop me. Not so different from yourself, really.]

"I'm nothing like you."

[Why thank you!]

Steele's fist hit the desktop. He took a few moments to compose himself before continuing.

"So what's next, anything else you require, or are we done?"

[Oh I think we're done. It's been fun, Lieutenant Commander, but I think I'll just watch for now. Let's see how well you do!]

"I can't say I understand why you've helped me so much…"

[Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Steele. Tell you what, I'll get another few million sent over to you, I understand you pay your staff pretty well. Wouldn't want them to get...angry with their employer if their salary was suddenly cut.]

"You don't know the half of it."

[Don't I? I know quite a bit, you could say it's a speciality of mine.]

"And it's been useful, I won't deny it."

[Oh please, don't pretend to be grateful, I don't need it, I've already got what I want.]

"Then I guess we're through, you and I."

[You might be, soon enough, but I'm just getting started!]

"With what?"

[You'll find out soon enough. We all will.]

* * *

"Feral, how are you settling in?"

"Can it, Mouser."

Dennis Mouser placed both paws on Ulysses Feral's desk, leering over him with a smirk on his face.

"Now, I know you're stressed, filing all those speeding tickets can't be easy work!"

Feral closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Despite the sarcasm inherent in the remark, there was an element of truth. Mouser had seen fit to charge him with serving traffic citations for the entirety of the city, totalling some two thousand per day. He had already worked for eight hours straight without a break, and the sheer monotony of his task was starting to weigh upon him.

"Don't you worry yourself about that, sir." he replied, only the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I've been doing this for a long time, some of us had to work their way up, earn their position."

Dennis laughed, flicking one of the tickets onto the floor. "You can cut it with the sir, I'm just acting in your place until City Hall decides on someone more permanent. We're all friends here, Ulysses."

"You are the commander of the Megakat City Enforcers, sir, the position warrants respect...even if the kat does not."

Dennis narrowed his eyes. Feral would not snap, not from such mindless taunts.

"You know." he said, changing both the topic and the tone of his voice. "I was at your niece's hearing, it didn't go so well. She's got a real mouth on her, can't imagine where she picked it up."

Feral's eye twitched a little. "Sir, Captain Feral's…"

"Oh, it's Specialist Feral now."

Another twitch. "Specialist Feral's conduct is a matter between her and the board. If she feel like telling members of her family, I am sure she will do so in her own time."

"Yes, yes, family." continued Dennis. "I checked the records, seem's there has been a Feral either at the top or the enforcer chain of command, or at least pretty near to it, since Megawar Two. Shame really, that we had to end a family tradition this way."

Feral looked up at Dennis, forcing out a smile "I am sure that the security authority will make the correct decision when it comes time to appoint a permanent commander. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir, I have a lot of work to do."

Dennis pushed back from the desk. "Of course, don't let me keep you, important work that you're doing there, who knows what sort of chaos we'd find ourselves in otherwise!"

Leaving the large kat fuming, Dennis Mouser exited the tiny office, shutting the door behind him. Feral stared motionless at the paper in front of him. He took a few, deep breaths.

In a swift, violent motion, he brought both his oversized fists down with enough force to crack the wooden desktop.

"CRUD!"

* * *

For the third time in as many weeks, Abigail Sharpe pushed open the doors to the dingy, musty bar and sauntered inside. The establishment was typically her final stop of the evening; either as a result of it being close to the residency building, or because she had been asked to leave her more regular hangouts. The beer wasn't the best, nor was the whiskey, but it was cheap and only tasted slightly of aftershave. Without the benefit of an income, cheap was at the top of her list of priorities. This time, however, Jet's Sports Bar and Grill would be her first and only stop.

Abby wasn't broke, but she was close. No longer able to live in the NCO residency block, the better part of her modest savings had been spent on accommodation at a run-down motel a few blocks away. Meals had consisted of cheap, greasy takeout and her evenings had either been spent catching B-grade arthouse films at a nearby independent cinema, or simply sitting at the bar, downing shots of cheap whiskey. Thoughts of employment had crossed her mind, but with the city in a near constant state of panic and fear, positions for which her experience might qualify her were few and far between.

"Yo, Abby!" the barkat recognised her instantly.

"Hey, Jet."

"You're early, s'only a bit past eight. Ya want some wings?"

Abby took one of the empty seats at the bar, next to a grey, middle-aged kat. "Not today, just shoot me with your cheapest."

"Coming right up."

It wasn't just the prospect of cheap intoxication that drew her to Jet's, it was the company, or lack thereof. The more expensive and classy establishments, those she had taken her friend Felina to on occasions, were often crowded with toms looking for an easy hookup. Jet's place, however, was devoid of any and all manner of attention seeking behaviour, populated instead by quiet drunks, down-and-outs and the occasional addict. A nasty place, certainly, but a quiet, nasty place.

And the food wasn't half bad either.

"There ya go."

A double shot of whiskey, smelling only a little of claw polish remover, was deposited in front of Abby. Without pausing, she scooped the glass up and shot the amber liquid down her throat in a single gulp before slamming her paw down upon the bartop.

"...another."

With a smooth, practiced motion, the barkat delivered another double shot into the now-empty glass. As quickly as the first, it disappeared. The kat to her right shifted his head ever so slightly, glancing at Abby out of the corner of his eye.

Abby shot him a glare. "Excuse me, is something the matter?"

"...no." he returned to his half-empty bottle of beer, gazing listlessly ahead.

When she was sure his eyes were off her, she stole a glance of her own. He was somewhat handsome, in a rough sort of way, although perhaps a little old for her. His body was lean and hard, not overly muscled, with a gaunt, sunken face. A good number of strands of his otherwise charcoal grey fur were distinctively white, especially among those atop his head.

He caught her gaze, a slight grin peeking out from the corner of his mouth. "Lady knows how to drink."

"And the gentlekat," replied Abby, somewhat mockingly, "doesn't know when to mind his own business! Jet?"

The barkat shook his head. Bad news.

"I'm not here to cause trouble, babe, I've been coming here for a long time, ask Jet."

A nod.

Abby pushed her glass away, swiveling on her stool to face the him. He only occasionally sipped at the beer, otherwise rolling it gently about in his paw, his head occasionally dropping to his chest.

"Uh-huh." continued Abby. "And...what might bring you here tonight?"

He looked up at her, a smile crossing his face. It was false, but remorseful, even lonely. "I just need some time to think...trouble...with work."

"And what is it that you do?"

A chuckle from the grey kat. "And now who's not minding their own business?"

Abby opened her mouth to retort, but quickly closed it.

"Aw, what the hell." he continued, dismissing her sudden silence. "I uh, work in...private security."

"Private security." asked Abby quizzically. "Who for?"

"Can't say, wouldn't be very good at my job if I went spilling the beans on my client."

"OK, but you said you'd been having trouble."

The grey kat placed his beer down upon the countertop and himself swiveled about to face Abby. He was a good head and a half taller, and even from their sitting position, he loomed over the smaller she-kat.

"Woah, babe." he said, paws coming up defensively. "You're awfully curious, maybe you should tell me a bit about yourself before I go moaning and griping about my job. What would Jet think if I started using his place as a therapists office?"

"Leave me out of this."

Abby shuffled a little closer. "Well, ok then, but doesn't the tom usually buy the lady a drink in these situations?"

The grey kat lowered his paws while raising an eyebrow. "Ok, I'll bite. Jet, get the lady what she wants, on my tab."

Another double shot was deposited unceremoniously in front of Abby.

"Are you sure you can handle all that?" continued the grey kat. "I count six since you walked in."

Abby shot the whiskey back in the same manner as the previous two. "Hey, like you said, Jet wouldn't like it if we started using the bar for therapy sessions, besides, this is cheaper."

"Alright then, but why might you be needing therapy?"

Abby slumped on the stool. The entire purpose of her patronage was to push the memories of her times as an enforcer from her mind. Yet here she was, opening up to a kat almost twice her age that she had just me.

"I quit my job." she said, her voice low. "I was a cop."

"Not too good a job to be in at the moment, I don't blame you."

Abby shook her head. "It wasn't that, it was...well, my friend's kept getting hurt, I...just didn't want to be part of it all."

"And so here you are?"

She looked up. "It's either this or dangling myself off the edge of Old Megakat Bridge."

"That bad?"

Abby nodded.

"Well fair's fair." said the grey kat. "I guess I can relate. My boss isn't exactly the nicest kat around. I'm worried."

"About what?"

He sighed. "Some of what we do isn't exactly...legal. You don't work in this industry without breaking a few rules. It's dangerous, and not just for me..for…"

The last few words came out as an inaudible mumble.

"So?" interrupted Abby. "Just quit."

He shook his head. "Not that easy. I...I…"

He trailed off completely, dropping his head into his arms atop the benchtop.

"Hey, hey." said Abby. "Is everything alright, are...are you crying?"

The kat sat up, the fur on his face wet with tears. "I just don't know what to do, I thought I had it all, that it was all finally looking up for me. I used to be in the force too, you know, but...it never worked out."

"Discharge?"

A nod.

"Ok." continued Abby. "So what's so bad about your current job?"

"Everything! I'm so stupid! I'm putting everyone I know in danger!"

He wiped his eyes on the back of his jacket sleeve, forcing out a light chuckle. "Kat's alive, this isn't like me, just the past week, it's been too much."

"It's alright." said Abby. "At least you've got it together."

"You call this together? Everything is so messed up…"

"Yeah, you just seem to be a kat sitting down, enjoying a drink to me." her voice turned slightly distant. "I um...I didn't actually think that I'd...make it to...today."

He smiled at her, genuine this time, with a hint of warmth. "Guess that makes two of us."

"Oh shoot!" she exclaimed, thrusting her paw out. "I didn't even catch your name. Abigail Sharpe."

"Marco Gatti."

* * *

Author's Note:  
Finally, there it is! Sorry I took so long, I've released another short story, In Canvas Clad, with this chapter as penance for my awful crime of making you all wait! Check it out.

Two lots of good news, though! I've actually sat down and finished the storyboard for Counterplay, so all the remaining chapters are planned out. Should be easier to write them up from here!

Secondly, got myself a new job! Working for the federal government. Pretty solid gig, good pay and good hours, fits in with uni so I can keep up with the writing without too much trouble.

Thanks to everyone for being patient!

Cheers,

-AR


	19. UPDATE

Hi Everyone!

Just a quick update to let you know that I haven't abandoned Counterplay! Uni and work has been pretty brutal recently, and I simply haven't had time to write. I've still got more chapters on the way, and I absolutely intend to finish this story.

Thank you all for your support, and for being patient with me!

Cheers,  
-AR


End file.
